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THE 



Bi-literal Cypher 

of 

S'' Francis Bacon 



difcovered in his works 



AND DECIPHERED BY 



/ 

MRS. ELIZABETH WELLS GALLUP 



DETROIT. MICHIGAN: 
HOWARD PUBLISHING COMPANY 

LONDON : 
GAY b BIRD 






31179 



Entkkeu at Stationers' Hall, 

London, 

1899. 



All rights reser7>ed. 



Copyright, 1899. 
BY V. KING MOORE. 

All rights reserved. 



t>NO 



C30P^^'' 



^tccw^^' 



■la.. 



\PR 1 7 1899 



\ 



S^'^' 



r^ V C\ % 



PEKSONAL. 



TO THE READER: 

The discovery of the existence of the Bi-literal Cipher 
of Francis Bacon^ found embodied in his works, and the 
deciphering of what it tells, has been a work arduous, ex- 
hausting and prolonged. It is not ended, but the results 
of the work so far brought forth, are submitted for study 
and discussion, and open a new and large field of investi- 
gation and research, which cannot fail to interest all stu- 
dents of the earlier literature that has come down to us as 
a mirror of the past, and in many respects has been adopted 
as models for the present. 

Seeking for things hidden, the mysterious, elusive and 
unexpected, has a fascination for many minds, as it has 
for my own, and this often prompts to greater effort than 
more manifest and material things w^ould command. To 
this may be attributed, perhaps, the triumph over diffi- 
culties which have seemed to me, at times, insurmountable, 
the solution of problems, and the following of ways tor- 
tuous and obscure, which have been necessary to bring out, 
as they appear in the following pages, the hidden mes- 
sages which Francis Bacon so securely buried in his writ- 
ings, that three hundred years of reading and close study 
nave not until now uncovered them. 

This bi-literal Cipher is found in the Italic letters that 
appear in such unusual and unexplained prodigality in the 
original editions of Bacon's works. Students of these old 
editions have been impressed with the extraordinary num- 
ber of words and passages, often non-important, printed in 
Italics, where no known rule of construction would require 
their use. There has been no reasonable explanation of 
this until now it is found that thev were so used for the 



ti PERSONAL. 

purposes of this Cipher. These letters are seen to be in 
two formes — two fonts of type — with marked differences. 
In the Capitals these are easily discerned, bnt the distin- 
iiiiishing features in the small letters, from age of the 
books, blots and poor printing, have been more difficult to 
classify, and close examination and study have been re- 
tiaired to separate and sketch out the variations, and edu- 
cate the eye to distinguish them. 

How 1 found the Cipher, its difficulties, methods of 
working, and outline of what the several books contain, 
w)\\ more fully appear in the explanatory introduction. 

In assisting Dr. Owen in the preparation of the later 
books of "Sir Francis Bacon's Cipher Story," recently pub- 
lished, and in the study of the great Word-Cipher discov- 
■,'ied by him, in which is incorporated Bacon's more exten 
sive, more complete and important writings, I became con- 
\ iuced that the very full explanation found in De Aug- 
inc-ntis, of the bi-literal method of cipher-writing, was 
something more than a mere treatise on the subject. 1 
applied the rules given to the peculiarly Italicised words 
and 'letters in two forms," as they appear in the photo- 
graphic Fac-Simile of the original 1623, Folio Edition, of 
tiie Shakespeare Plays. The disclosures, as they appear in 
this volume, were as great a surprise to me, as they \\dll 
1)0 to my readers. Original editions of Bacon's known 
works were then procured, as well as those of other authors 
named in these, and claimed by Bacon as his own. The 
deciphered story in these will also appear under the several 
headings. 

From the disclosures found in all these, it is evident 
that Bacon expected this bi-literal Cipher would be the first 
to be discovered, and that it would lead to the discovery 
of his principal, or Word-Cipher, which it fully explains, 
and to which is intrusted the larger subjects he desired to 
have preserved. This order has been reversed, in fact, and 
the earlier discovery of the Word-Cipher, by Dr. Owen, 
becomes a more remarkable achievement, being entirely 



PERSONAL. m 

evolved without the aids which Bacon had prepared in this, 
for its ehicidation. 

The proofs are overwhelming and irresistible that Bacon 
was the author of the delightful lines attributed to Spen- 
ser, — the fantastic conceits of Peele and Green, — the his- 
torical romances of Marlowe, — the immortal plays and 
poems put forth in Shakespeare's name, as well as the 
Anatomy of Melancholy of Burton. 

The removal of these masques, behind which Bacon 
concealed himself, may change the names of some of our 
idols. It is, however, the matter and not the name that 
appeals to our intelligence. 

The plays of Shakespeare lose nothing of their dramatic 
power or wondrous beauty, nor deserve the less admiration 
of the scholar and critic, because inconsistencies are re- 
moved in the knowledge that they came from the brain of 
the greatest student and writer of that age, and were not 
a "flash of genius" descended upon one of peasant birth, 
less noble history, and of no preparatory literary attain- 
ments. 

The Faerie Queen and the Shepherds Calendar will be 
not less sweetly poetical, because Francis Bacon appropri- 
ated the name of Spenser, several years after his death, 
under which to put forth the musical measures, that had, 
up to that time, only appeared as the production of some 
Muse without a name. 

The supposed writings of Peele, Greene and Marlowe 
are not the less worthy, because really written by one 
greater than either. 

The remarkable similarity in the dramatic writings at- 
tributed to Greene, Peele, Marlowe and Shakespeare has 
attracted much attention, and the biographers of each have 
claimed that both style and subject-matter have been imi- 
tated, if not appropriated, by the others. The practical 
explanation lies in the fact that one hand wrote them all. 

r fully appreciate what it means to bring forth new 
truth from unexpected and unknown fields, if not in ac- 



tv PERSONAL. 

cord with accented theories and long held beliefs, ^'^or 
what a man had rather were true, he more readily be- 
lieves,7 — i'^ one of Bacon's trnisms that finds many illus- 
trations. 

I appreciate what it means to ask strong minds to change 
long standing literary convictions, and of such I venture 
to ask the witholding of judgment until study shall have 
made the new matter familiar, with the assurance mean- 
while, upon my part, of the absolute veracity of the work 
which is here presented. Any one possessing the original 
books, who has sufficient patience and a keen eye for form, 
can work out and verify the (Cipher from the illustrations 
given. ISf^othing is left to choice, chance, or the imagina- 
tion. The statements which are disclosed are such as could 
not be foreseen, or imagined, or created, nor can there be 
found reasonable excuse for the hidden Avritings, except for 
the purposes narrated, which could only exist concerning, 
and be described by, Francis Bacon. 

I woiild beg that the readers of this book will bring to 
the consideration of the work minds free from prejudice, 
judging of it mth the same intelligence and impartiality 
they would themselves desire, if the presentation were their 
own. Otherwise the work will, indeed, have been a thank- 
less task. 

To doubt the ultimate acceptance of the truths brought 
to light would be to distrust that destiny in which Bacon 
had such an abiding faith for his justification, and which, 
in fact, after three centuries, has lifted the veil, and 
brought us to estimate the character and accomplishments, 
trials and sorrows of that great genius, with a feeling of 
nearness and personal sympathy, far greater than has been 
possible from the partial knowledge which we have here- 
tofore enjoyed. 

ELIZABETH WELLS GALLUP. 
Deiroit, March 1st, 1899. 



EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION. 



The subject of Cipliers and Cipher-writing became, with 
Francis Bacon, a hobby, if not an absorbing passion, the 
extent of which may bo judged from the voluminous and 
important matter being brought to light, which he infolded 
in his writings, and which has until now escaped attention. 
In his work published in 1605, "Of the Advancement of 
Learning," he makes a topic of C'iphers, as a branch of 
educational progress, and hints at, but does not explain, 
the bi-literal method of Cipher-writing, while he was at 
the same time infolding, in the Italic letters of the book 
itself portions of his own secret history, and facts concern- 
ing the rebellion of Essex, in the manner in which he 
asserts such messages might be hidden. 

He continued to write Ciphers into his various works, 
published from time to time, until in 1624, when, none 
having discovered the secret, the very success of the system 
seeming likely to defeat its object, and when all personal 
danger from a premature exposure of what he had written 
was past, he published in the Latin version of "De Aug- 
mentis Scientiarum" a clear and minute description and 
illustration of this Cipher, hoping that it would be under- 
stood, and fearing that nothing less would lead to its dis- 
covery and translation. 

"But what occasion had Francis Bacon to write Ciphers 
into his works?" First, — a boyish freak, no doubt, to do 
that which had never been done, employ his inventions in 
a larger way and gratify his passion for Cipher writing; 
later, its demonstrated success suggested a means of con- 
veying to a future time the truth which was being con- 
cealed from the world concerning himself, his Royal 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

birth, — his right to be King of England — secrets of State 
regarding Queen Elizabeth — his mother — and other prom- 
inent characters of that day, the correction of English his- 
tory in important particulars, and the exposure of the 
wrongs that had been put upon him. 

Added to this, and most important of all to the ambi- 
tions of his latter days, was the hope of thus bringing to 
the knowledge of the world the greater field of literature 
which he had occupied, unknown at that time, and unsus- 
pected until recently, as the author of many books which 
had been accredited to other names, and thereby secure in 
the world of letters the wider fame and glory which he 
craved, and which Avas his just due. 

The names, other than his own, under which Bacon 
published the brilliant literature of that era, were Christo- 
pher Marlowe, — George Peele, — Robert Greene, — Ed- 
mund Spenser, — William Shakespeare, — Robert Burton, 
and Ben Jonson. Two of these, Spenser and Greene, died 
before the books appeared in their names. Pemiission to 
use the others was by consent, through purchase or other 
arrangement. The Cipher* (more than one) run through 
them all. 

That Francis Bacon wrote the Shakespeare Plays, and 
the existence of Ciphers in them, has been long suspected, 
and much time and study devoted to arguing, pro and con^ 
the several phases and probabilities of the question. The 
same questions had not been raised, nor suggestion of other 
authorship than appears upon the title pages, regarding the 
others, until the discovery by Dr. O. W. Owen of the prin- 
cipal, or AVord-Cipher, in the works of all of them, portions 
of which have already been published as "Sir Francis 
Bacon's Cipher Story." The translation of this bi-literal 
(^ipher in the folloAA'ing pages, with its directions as to how 
the Word-Cipher is to be constructed, the keys to the 
different stories to be written, the guides as to where to 
find the matter pertaining to them, fully confirms what had 



INTRODUCTION. vii 

already been fonnd by Dr. Owen, and removes all possible 
doubt as to Bacon's authorship. 

In the present volume is presented that part of the hid- 
den writings which the bi-literal Cipher reveals in the fol- 
lowing works: — Francis Bacon's, Of the Advancement of 
Learning, (1605), — King Henry Seventh, (1622), — Sylva- 
Sylvarum and New Atlantis, (first published 1635), — 
Spenser's, Shepherd's Calendar and short poems, (1611), — 
Faerie Queen, (1613), — Jonson's, Sejanus, and Masques, 
(1616),— Marlowe's Edward Second, (1622),— Shake- 
speare Plays, (Folio 1623), — Burton's Anatomy of Melan- 
choly, (1628). 

In all of these are fragments of Bacon's personal history, 
the statement that Elizabeth was the lawful wife of the 
Earl of Leicester by a secret marriage, before becoming 
Queen ; that the issue of this marriage was two sons, — Fran- 
cis Bacon, so-called, and Eobert Devereux, afterward Earl 
of Essex; that Francis was at birth received by Mistress 
Ann Bacon and was reared and educated as the son of 
Nicholas Bacon. It appears that at ab^ut the age of six- 
teen Francis discovered the facts of his nativity through 
the gossip of a Court lady, and in a fit of anger the Queen 
acknowledged to him her motherhood and his son-ship, and 
that he was immediately thereafter sent to France, and 
subsequent action was taken by which he was barred from 
the succession to the throne. In several of the books, 
though more notably in the Shakespeare plays, are explana- 
tions of the "great Word-Cipher which shows all," with 
keys to the different stories, their titles and directions for 
deciphering them. 

The work hidden takes the form of a series of letters, 
or divisions, each being closed \^dth a signature of Francis 
Bacon, or with initials or some one of the titles he bore. 

In the Shakespeare Plays, the chief dramatic work of 
Bacon, is found the most important of the secret writings 
committed to the Ciphers. Here, in extenso, are the prin- 



VIII INTRODUCTION. 

cipal directions and manner of writing the word-cipher, the 
keys and guides, the different works to be used and the 
names under which thev appear, the titles of the hidden 
stories to be written out, and where the matter of which 
they are to be constructed may be found. Much space is 
devoted to the secret personal history of himself and his 
brother, Robert, which the Queen saw fit to have concealed 
from general knowledge. 

His references to the trial and execution of Essex and 
the part he was forced to take in his prosecution, are the 
subject of a continual wail of unhappiness and ever-present 
remorse, with hopes and prayers that the truth hidden in 
the Cipher may be found out, and published to the world 
in his justification. '*0 God! forgiveness cometh from 
Thee; shut not this truest book, my God! Shut out my 
past, — love's little sunny hour, — if it soe please Thee, and 
some of man's worthy work, yet Essex's tragedy here shew 
forth; then posterity shall know him truly." 

The various Introductions, Dedications, the Catalogue 
of Plays and Characters, the Prologues, the headings of 
the different Comedies, Histories and Tragedies (in the 
order named), comprising a series of short passages, giving 
general directions for the work, are complete in themselves, 
and at the end of each division occurs seme one of the sig- 
natures by whicli Bacon was known, as if to authenticate 
what had been written. 

The more connected narrative is in the Plays, combined 
in the order as given (in cipher) in the Natural History, 
and in the Plays themselves as the deciphering advanced. 

In this order tlie plays are linked together in the most 
unmistakable manner, parts of words and sentences unfin- 
ished at the end of one finding completion and continuance 
in the next. Four breaks or omissions occur, however, 
from inability thus far to gain access to the original edi- 
tions of the books required, and from the fact that the 
modern editions do not contain this bi-literal, though the 



INTRODUCTION. ix 

Word-Cipher is easily traced in them. The first missing 
link is Peele's Old Wives' Tale, which should precede 
Twelfth jSi^ight. Its absence causes the latter to begin 
abruptly, showing the omission of something which should 
precede it in the deciphering. The second omission is the 
Pinner of Wakefield, published as Greene's work, which 
should precede the Merchant of Venice. The third omis- 
sion is the Jew of Malta, of Marlowe, which should precede 
the Merry Wives of Windsor. The fourth missing link is 
at the end of Much Ado About Nothing, which closes with 
an incomplete sentence, the remainder of which will be 
found in the Tale of Troy. Hiren the Faire Greek (sup- 
posed to be a lost play) should follow this and precede Win- 
ter's Tale, which last begins with a continuation of some- 
thing to be found in the missing work. The absence of 
these books is not material, hovv'^ever, as the substance of 
the bi-literal story is so often repeated in the other works, 
they are not necessary to an understanding of the whole. 

On another page is copied from De Augmentis, as nearly 
as may be with modern type, the illustration of the method 
of infolding cipher writings by means of "letters in two 
forms," the letters infolding being (quintuple those in- 
folded. This plan was applied to the Italic letters, in the 
books mentioned, with results which iiave been most sur- 
prising in the variety and interest of the deciphered work. 

The rule is simple and easily comprehended, but many 
stumbling blocks occur in the books, placed there with the 
evident puii^ose of making the deciphering more difiicult, 
which bring confusion to the work until removed. Each 
book has its o^^^l peculiarities — different letters — and forms 
a separate study. The first page of Henry VII., as it 
herein appears, will explain some peculiarities, the changes 
in the readings of the same forms of letters, the meaning 
of the dots and other unusual markings, which close stu- 
dents of the old books have noted. Occasionally will be 
found a Roman letter in an Italic word ; this has to be dis- 



X INTRODUCTION. 

regarded. Not infrequently an Italic letter occurs in a 
word, the remainder of which is in Roman; these must be 
used. There are occasional words in Eoman type between 
words in Italic that have to be used to form the groups 
necessary to complete a Cipher word. Whether these are 
mistakes of the printer, or thrown in to confuse would-be 
decipherers, it is of course not possible now to determine. 
In the illustration given in the original De Auginentis, one 
of the Latin words ends with a wrong termination, making 
one too many letters for the group, and must be omitted. 
The error is corrected in the English translation of 1641 
and in subsequent editions. 

One of the most puzzling of the many strange things 
that have been observed but not explained has been the 
duplication and misplaced paging in the originals. These 
occur in nearly all the books that have been deciphered. 
There are several in the Folio Shakespeare Plays, and they 
are still more prominent in some of the other works. A 
list is appended, Avith explanation of the pages which are to 
be joined together in the deciphering. They bring the 
work into instant confusion, until the proper duplicate page 
is found and the two joined together in the order of pre- 
cedence in which they occur, until all of that number are 
deciphered, after which the consecutive pages continue the 
story until some other break occurs, which has in turn to 
be properly solved. Sometimes three, and in Advance- 
ment of Learning four misplaced pages are found of the 
same number in the same book. 

To illustrate more fully: the first WTong paging in the 
Folio Shakespeare occiu-s in Merry Wives of Windsor. 
After page 49 are 58-51. In the consecutive order there- 
after, and follo^Wng 58, is another 51. In deciphering, the 
first 58 must be omitted until the first 51 is deciphered; 
this must be followed by the second 51, then the regular 
order resumed. When page 57 has been deciphered, it 



INTRODUCTION. xi 

must be followed by the first 58, and this by the second 
58. There is no 50 or 59 in this division. In Comedy of 
Errors, page 85 is followed by page 88, then 87, then 88 
again. In deciphering, page 85 must be followed by 87, 
this by the first 88, and this by the second 88. There is 
no 86. 

In Tempest, as deciphered, this direction occurs: — 
"Now join King Lear, King John, Romeo & Juliet — " 
etc. In the closing lines of King John, this: — "Join 
Romeo with Troy's famous Cressida if you wish to know 
my story. Cressida in this play with Juliet, b — " which 
ends the Cipher in King John, with an incomplete word. 
Turning to Romeo and Juliet (page 53) the remainder of 
the word, and the broken sentence is continued, being a 
part of the description of Marguerite, and the love Francis 
entertained for her. 

The deciphering of Romeo and Juliet proceeded with- 
out interruption until page 76 was finished. The next 
page is 79, but an attempt to go forward with it brought 
confusion, the subject-matter not joining or relating to the 
preceding subject. After much speculation and study, it 
was recalled that Troilus and Cressida was to follow, and 
that the first page of that play was 78. A trial of this 
page brought out the letter and words which connected 
with those on page 76 of Romeo and Juliet. At the end 
of 79, of Troilus and Cressida, again came confusion, but 
by joining Romeo and Juliet, 79, to this, and following by 
page 80 of Troilus and C^ressida, the narration was con- 
tinued in proper order. There is no page 77 in Romeo 
and Juliet, or in this division of the book. 

Had the Cipher been less arbitrary, or subject to varia- 
tion, or the story the invention of the decipherer, less time 
and study would have been spent in finding joining parts, 
and nothing would have been known of the reasons for 
wTong paging. 



XII INTRODUCTION. 

Some Keys relating to other Cipher work not yet deci- 
phered are omitted. 

Spelling was not an exact science in any of the works 
of Bacon and if the old English is thought to be unique, it 
must be attributed to the unsettled orthography if the six- 
teenth century. Many abbreviations occur, marked by the 
"iilda'' in the old English, but which are not used in mod- 
ern type. In the deciphered works the same diversity 
exists as in the originals, the exact text being followed letter 
by letter. Proper names, even, are not always spelled 
alike. There was marked progress, however, in the period 
between the production of Bacon's first works and the last. 
To Bacon, in greater degree than to any other, has been 
accredited the enriching of the English language with new 
wunls, but the spelling and expression of them have been 
three centuries in crystalizing into the simplicity and uni- 
formity of the present schools. 

The Natural History, and New Atlantis, was published 
some years after Bacon's death, by Dr. Rawley, the private 
secretary of whom Bacon speaks. In the Introduction and 
table of contents, Rawley tells (in Cipher) the circum- 
stances of its preparation. In the dccyphering, the body 
of the book was first worked out. In the Eighth Century 
there came confusion of letters and it required considerable 
study to find that the fonts of type had been changed in 
some of the letters, i. e., what had been used as the "a" 
font was changed to the "b" font, either by mistake, or for 
purposes of confusion. After the main part of the book 
had been finished, the Introduction of Rawley and table of 
contents was deciphered, and this brought out that from 
the Eighth Century Rawley had completed the work, — 
"yet I have stumblingly proceeded with it and unwittingly 
used some letters wrongly, as B — I — L — M — N — P — S — 
and Z." He also refers to his finishing the last edition of 
Burton's Anatomv, the edition used in this volume. 



INTRODUCTION. xiii 

The reference to the signing of the death warrant of 
Mary Queen of Scots, by the Secretary, Davison, instead 
of by Elizabeth, and unknown to her, confirms what the 
most recent historians have noted, and explains some in- 
consistencies in the earlier accounts of Elizabeth's action. 

Perhaps the most remarkable results, and certainly the 
most unexpected, and greatest surprise, came from deci- 
phering De Augmentis, and Burton's Anatomy of Melan- 
choly. The history of the Anatomy is peculiar. It is 
said to appear in the Catalogue of the British Museum 
under the fictitious name of T. Bright, about the year 1587, 
or when Burton was only about ten years old. Greatly 
enlarged, it appears in 1621, and again in 1624, and again 
in 1628, under the name of Robert Burton, a person of 
whom little is known, except as the supposed author of this 
work alone, and as a living example of the melancholy 
which it so felicitously describes. The Cipher mentions 
both Bright and Burton as names under which Bacon WTOte 
the book, and also that the different editions contain a 
different Cipher story. 

The extraordinary part is that this edition conceals, in 
Cipher, a very full and extended prose summary — argu- 
ment, Bacon calls it — of a translation of Homer's Iliad. 
In order that there may be no mistake as to its being 
Bacon's work, he precedes the translation with a brief ref- 
erence to his royal birth and the wrongs he has suffered 
from being excluded from the throne. The Cipher also 
tells that in the marginal notes, which are used in large 
numbers in the book, may be found the argument to a 
translation of the JEneid, but this has not been deciphered. 
In De Augmentis is found a similar extended summary, 
or argument, of a translation of the Odyssey. This, too, 
is introduced with reference to Bacon's personal history, 
and although the text of the book is in Latin the Cipher is 
in English. 



JTvi INTRODUOTION. 

The decipherer is not a Greek scholar and would be in- 
capable of creating these extended arguments, which differ 
widely in phrasing from any translation extant, and are 
written in a free and flowing style which will be recog- 
nized as Baconian. 

Homer was evidently a favorite author, and in all the 
books deciphered it is repeated that the translations, in 
Iambic verse, will be found in the Word-Cipher, and these 
summaries are to aid in tiie production of them. Close 
students of Shakespeare and Spenser have noted many 
fragments of the Iliad in the plays and poems, and a portion 
has already been deciphered. 

The books deciphered cover a period of about twenty 
years, in which Bacon was writing into them the secrets 
of his life. The repetitions of the sorrowful story take on 
the differing moods in which he wrote and the variations 
of mental activity during tliat long period. 

Grieving over the tragic death of his brother, and his 
part in bringing it about, which was an ever present cause 
of remorse, and brooding over the wrongs and sorrows that 
had been forced upon himself, his mind passes through 
many changeful emotions as the years progress, and the 
bi-literal Cipher becomes the receptacle of his plaints — the 
escape valve of his momentary passions — the record of liis 
lost hopes, and the expression of those which he still cher- 
ished for the future in the prophecy, — "| look out to the 
future, not of years, but of ages, knomng that my labours 
are for the benefit of a land very farr oft', and after great 
length of time is past." 

Detroit, March, 1899. 



Of the. Advancement of Learning, 



(London, 1605.) 



CYPHARS 



For C Y p H A R s ; they are commonly in Letters 
or Alphabets, but may bee in Wordes. The kindes 
of C Y p H A R s, (befides the Simple Cyphars 
with Changes, and intermixtures of N vlles, and 
Nonsignificant s) are many, according to 
the Nature or Rule of the infoulding : W h e e l e - 
Cyphars, Ka y-C yphars, Doybles, 
&c. But the vertues of them, whereby they are 
to be preferred, are three ; that they be not labor- 
ious to write and reade; that they bee impofsible 
to difcypher ; and in fome cafes, that they bee 
without fufpition. The higheft Degree whereof, 
is to write Omnia Per Omnia; which is 
vndoubtedly pofsible, with a proportion Quintuple 
at moft, of the writing infoulding, to the writing 
infoulded, and no other reftrainte whatfoeuer. 
This Arte of Cypheringe, hath for Relatiue, an Art 
of Difcypheringe ; by fuppofition vnprofitable ; but, 
as things are, of great vfe. For fuppofe that 
Cyphars were well mannaged, there bee Multitudes 
of them which exclude the Difcypherer, But in 
regarde of the rawnefTe and vnskilfulneffe of the 
handes, through which they paffe, the greateft 
Matters, are many times carryed in the weakeft 
Cyphars, 



De Augmentis Scientiarum 

(Translation, Gilbert Wats, 1640.) 



Wherefore let iis come /o C v p H a R s. Their kinds 
are many, as Cyphars /imple; Cyphars intermixt witt 
U^idloes, or non - fignificant Characters; Cyphars of 
double Letters under one Character; Wheele-Cyphars ; Kay- 
Cyphars; Cyphars of Words; Others. But the virtues 
of them whereby they are to be preferr'd are Three; 
That they be ready, and not laborious to write; That they be 
jure, and lie not open to Deciphering; And laflly, if it be 
pofsible, that they be managed without fiifpition. 

But that jealoufies may be taken away, we will 
annexe an other invention, which, in truth, we 
devifed in our youth, when we were at Paris : and 
is a thing that yet feemeth to us not worthy to be 
loft. It containeth the bighejl degree of Cypher, which 
is to fignifie omnia per omnia, yet fo as the writing 
infolding, may beare a quintuple proportion to the 
writing infolded; no other condition or reftriction 
whatfoever is required. It fhall be performed thus: 
Firft let all the Letters of the Alphabet, by tranfpo- 
fition, be refolved into two Letters onely ; for the 
tranfpofition of two Letters by five placings will be 
fufficient for 32. Differences, much more for 24. 
which is the number of the Alphabet. The example 
of fuch an Alphabet is on this wife. 



An Example of a "Bi-literarie Alphabet. 

<i/I "B C Tf E F 

oAaaaa aaaah aaaba. aaabb. aabaa. aabab. 

G H I Kim 

aabba aabbb abaaa. abaab, ababa. ababb. 

^ O T Q. T{ S 

abbaa. abbab. abbba. abbbb. baaaa. baaab. 

T V IV X Y Z 

baaba. baabb. babaa. babab. babba, babbb. 

Neither is it a fmall matter thefe Cypher-Characters 
have, and may performe : For by this Art a way is 
opened, whereby a man may expreffe and fignifie 
the intentions of his minde, at any diftance of 
place, by objects which may be prefented to the 
eye, and accommodated to the eare : provided thofe 
objects be capable of a twofold difference onely ; 
as by Bells, by Trumpets, by Lights and Torches, 
by the report of Muskets, and any inftruments of 
like nature. But to purfue our enterprife, when 
you addreffe your felfe to write, refolve your in- 
ward-infolded Letter into this "Bi-literarie Alphabet. 
Say the interiour Letter be 

Fuge. 

Example of Solution. 

F V G E 

aabab. baabb. aabba. aabaa. 

Together with this, you muft have ready at 
hand a "Bi-formed Alphabet, which may reprefent all 
the Letters of the Common Alphabet, as well Capitall 
Letters as the Smaller Characters in a double 
forme, as may fit every mans occafion. 



An Example of a 'Bi-formed Alphabet. 

C a 6 'a 6 a l> a h a b a b a b a b abababab 

\j^Aaa "BBbh CCccT>Ddd EEee FFff 

( a b a b abababab abababab a b a b 

XGGgg HHbh yiii KKkh LLll {MMmm 

( a b a b a b a b a b a b a l> a b abababab 

X^Nnn OOoo TPpp Q^Qqq Ti^rr SSss 

( ababababab a b a b a bab abababab 

\ T TttVVvvuu IVWww XXxx YYyy ZZ^z 

Now to the interiour letter, which is Biliterate, 
you fhall fit a biformed exteriour letter, which fhall 
anfwer the other, letter for letter, and afterwards 
fet it downe. Let the exteriour example be, 

tManere te volo, donee venero. 

An Example of Accommodation. 

F V G E 

a £L b a b, b a. a b b. a. a. b b a. a a baa, 

(Manere te volo donee venero 

We have annext likewife a more ample examph^ 
of the cypher of writing omnia per omnia: An interiour 
letter, which to expreffe, we have made choice of 
a Spartan letter fent once in a Scytale or round 
cypher'd ftaffe. 

Spartan Dispatch. 

J^ll is lost. zMindarus is killed. The soldiers 
want food. We can neither get hence nor stay longer 
here. 

An exteriour letter, taken out of the firft Epiftle 
of Cicero, wherein a Spartan Letter is involved. 



Cicero's First Epistle. 
Jn all duty or rather piety towards 

a a aaa\a-bAh a\ a b a b ci\ti b a a alb a a.a-b\abab 
A \ ^ \l\i\s\L 

you, I satisfy everybody except myself. 

a \ a i b a b\i a a a b \ b a a b a\a b a b b\ a b a a a \ a b b a a\ a 

I o \s\t\m\i\n\ 

(My self J never satisfy. For so great are 

a a b b\a a a a a\b a a a a\ b a a b b I b a a a b \ a b a a a\ b a a 

d\a\r\u\ S I /|^ 

tlie services which you have rendered me, 

a b\a b a a b\ab a a a \a b a b tt\a b a b a\a abaa\aaab b\ b 
|Ar|/| L \ L 1^1 D \ 

that , seeing you did not rest in your en- 

a a b a I a a b b b\a a b a a\b a aab\abba b\a b a b a\ a a 
T \ H \ E \ S \ O \ L \ 

deavours on my behalf till the thing was 

abb\abaaa\aa b a a\baaaa\batta b\b a b a a\ a a a a a\ 
D \ I \ E \r\s\w\a\ 

done, 7 feel as if life had lost all its sweet- 

abba a \ baab a\a a b a b\a b bab\abba b\aa abb \ b a baa I 
N \T\f\0\0\d\U^\ 

ness, because J cannot do as much in this 

a a b a a\A a a b a [a a a a cl\ a b b a. a \ a b B a a\ ti a b a a\a b 

E \ c \ A 1^1 ^r 1^1 

cause of yours. The occasions are these: 

a a a\ b a a b a \ a a b b b\ a a b a a\b aa a a\a abb a\a a b a 

I \ T \ II \ E \ R \ G \ E 

i/immonius, the king's ambassador, open- 

a I b a. a b a\ a <t bbb\a-aba a \ a. b b a a] a- u a- b a \ a a b a. 
I T \ H \ E \ N \ C \ E 

ly besieges us with money. The business 

a\a b b a a\a b b a b \b aaaa\baaab I baa b a\a a a a a\b 
\ M \ O \ R \ S I r 1^1 

is carried on through the same creditors 

a b b a\a b a b a \ a b b a b\a b b a a\a a b b a ] a abaa\baaaa\ 
Y \ L \ O \ N \ O \ E \ R \ 

who were employed in it when you were 

a a b b b\a a b a a\b a a a a \ a a b a a\ a a a a a a a a a a 
H \ E \ R \ E I 

here Grc. 

( N o T B )— This Translation from Spedding, Ellis & Heath Ed, 



(REPRODUCTION .) 

Epistle. 

Jn all duty or rather piety towards you, I satisfy 

everybody except myself. UVIyself J never satisfy. 

For so great are the services which you have rendered 

me, that, seeing you did not rest in your endeavours 

on my behalf till the thing was done, 7 feel as if life 

had lost all its sweetness, beca'^tse J cannot do as 

much in this cause of yours. The occasions are these: 

tAmmonius, the king's ambassador^ openly besieges us 

with money. The business is carried on through the 

same creditors who were employed in it when you 

were here ^c. 

Cipher infolded. 

Ml is lost. (Mindarus is killed. The soldiers 
want food. iVe can neither get hence nor stay longer 
here. 

The knowledge of Cyphering, hath drawne on with it 
a knowledge relative unto it, which is the knowledge 
of Difcypheringy or of Difcreting Cyphers, though a man 
were utterly ignorant of the Alphabet of the Cypher, 
and the Capitulations of fecrecy paft between the 
Parties. Certainly it is an Art which requires great 
paines and a good witt and is [as the other was] 
confecrate to the Counfels of Princes: yet notwith- 
ftanding by diligent previfion it may be made un- 
profitable, though, as things are, it be of great ufe. 
For if good and faithfull Cyphers were invented & 
practifed, many of them would delude and foreftall 
all the Cunning of the Decypherer^ which yet are very 
apt and eafie to be read or written: but the rawneffe 
and unskilfulneffe of Secretaries, and Clarks in the 
Courts of Princes, is fuch, that many times the 
greateft matters are committed to futile and weake 
Cyphers. 



BI-LITERAL CYPHER. 



FRANCIS BACON. 



OF THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 

Take, reade! it is sore necessity that doth force me to 
this very dry and also quite difficile Cyphar as a way or 
methode of transmission. Seldome (though occasionalie 
in th' bright but infrequent verse) lines of a published 
booke may artfullie come, plact in my Cypher amongst 
new matter; for all this bi-literall may do, shall be as an 
helpe and aide to my former: one must cary on the other. 

Therefore as you cease to be attracted by one, you may 
folow another, but I am most assur'd that my long labor, 
spent making such small devices with this scope, end, and 
ayme, when completed and put out, boldlie given forth 
under my signature or in some other name, shall have full 
recompence of reward. 

As one fiudeth that which doth already exist in his 
minde — a pre-notion — ^more quickly, and will more readily 
arrive at th' goal when he doth keepe his eyes on it. soe 
shall my diseipherer make farre more advancement, keep- 
ing steadilie on with my aide, nere turning aside mth a 
wand'ring eye. 



2 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

It is for his advantage or benefitt also that th' lines 
that I have niention'd shall occasionally come to view; th' 
pronotion being thns form'd greatly asisteth many times, 
and doth ayde th' eye to see th' symboles (signes) to shew 
my discyphere' works of my penne in concealme't, or 
rather in masqne or disguise. 

My stage plaies have all beene disgiiis'd (to wit, many 
in Greene's name or in Peele's, Marlowe's, a fewe, such 
as th' Queene's Masques and others of this kind published 
for me by Jonson, my friend and co-worker) since I relate 
a secret history therein, a storie of so sterne and tragick 
qualitie, it illie suited my lighte' verse, in tlic earlier 
workes. 

It surely must proove that they are the work of my 
hand when you, observing this varietie of forms, find out 
th' Cyphar soc devis'd to ayde a decipherer in the study 
of th' interiour historic. By the use of this bi-literall 
Cypha', or the highest degree of Cyphar writing, I may 
give not meerely simple plain rules for such matters, but 
also some hint that may bee of use, or an exa'ple. 

It is fame that all seeke, and surelie so great renowne 
can come in noe otlie' studie: if therefore you commence 
th' study, the lawrell nuist at some future day be bestow'd 
upon you, for your interesse must dayly grow and none 
could winne you awaye. 

On niee it doth impose a great labour, but the part you 
shall doe shall be much lighter. It is many dales, (ay, 
best part o' a yeare now) th' worke that is before you 
hath beene in hand: noe wonder, then, that 'tis a weari- 
som' taske and somewhat drie. It would w(^ary the veriest 
clod: wlie', however, it shal be completed, my joy will 
cxccede th' past wearinesse. 



IN ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 3 

Soone it can but be seene that I have undertaken great 
labour in behalfe of men for the furder advancing of 
knoAvledge, awaiting a time when it shall bee in everie 
language as in our owne, but that this may be kept to 
other ages we may use th' Latine, since our feare is often 
excited by th' want we note in this, th' English, of a degree 
or measure of stability or of uniformity of its construc- 
tion; and also many changes in usage shewe it is wise to 
use for a monument, marble more lasting. 

Still, so great is our love for our mother-tongue, wee 
liave at times made a free use, both of such words as are 
consid'r'd antique, and of stile, theme, and innermost 
spiritt of an earlier day, especially in th' Edmunde Spenser 
poemes that are modelled on Chaucer; yet th' antique or 
ancient is lightly woven, as you no doubte have before 
this noted, not onlie with expressions that are both comon 
and unquestionablie English of our own dale, but fre- 
quently with French wordes, for the Nonnan-French 
William tlie Conqueror introduced left its traces. 

Beside nought is furder from my thoughts then a wish 
to lop this off, but, on the contrarie, a desire to graff more 
thoroughly on our language, cutis that will make th' tree 
more delightsome and its fruits more rare, hatli oft led 
me to doe the engraffing for my proper selfe. 

Indeed not th' genmies of their language alone, but the 
Jewells of their crowne are rightf\illie England, her in- 
heritance. 

Furthermore many words commonlie used in diiforent 
parts of England, strike th' eare of citizens of toAvnes in 
southerne England like a foreine tongue, combinations 
whereof make all this varietie, that I finde ofttimes melo- 
dious, againe lesse pleasing, like the commingling of coun- 



4 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF PTIANCIS BACON. 

trey friiites at a market faire. Yet you, seing the reason, 
approve, no doubte, th' efforts I make in the cause of all 
students of a language and learning, that is yet in its boy- 
hood, so to speake. 

The inwardc motive is noble, onlie as it cometh from a 
pure love of the people, without a wrong or selfish thought 
of my right to nile this kingdome as her supreme gov- 
ernour: but this deathlesse, inalienable, roiall right doth 
exist. 

Queen Elizabeth, the late soveraigne, wedded, secretly, 
th' Earle, my father, at th' Tower of London, and after- 
wards at th' house of Lord P this ceremony was re- 
peated, but not with any of the pompe and ceremonie that 
sortcth wel with queenly espousals, yet with a sufficient 
number of witnesses. 

I, therfore, being the first borne sonne of this union 
should sit upon the throne, ruling the people over whom 
the Supreame Soveraigne doth sliewe my right, as hath 
beene said, whilst suff'ring others to keepe the royall 
power. 

A foxe, seen oft at our Court in th' forme and outward 
appearance of a man named Robert Cecill — the hunch- 
back — must answer at th' Divine Araignment to my 
charge agains' him, for he despoyled me ruthlessly. Th' 
Queene, my mother, might, in course of events which fol- 
low'd their revelations regarding my birth and parentage, 
without doubt having some naturall pride in her offspring, 
often have shewne us no little attenntion had not the 
crafty foxe aroused in that tiger-like spiritt th' jealousy 
that did so tormente the Queene, [that] neyther night nor 
da}- brought her respite from such suggestio's about my 
hoy)e that T might bee England's king. 



IN ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 5 

He told her my endeavours were all for sov'raigntie and 
honour, a perpetuall intending and constant hourlie prac- 
tising some one thing urged or imposed, it should seeme, 
by that absolute, inhere't, honorably deriv'd necessitie of 
a conservation of roiall dignity. 

He bade her observe the strength, breadth and com- 
passe, at an early age, of th' intellectual powers I displaied, 
and ev'n deprecated th' gen'rous disposition or graces of 
speech which wonne me manie friends, implying that my 
gifts would thus, no doubt, uproot her, because I would, 
like Absalom, steale awaie th' people's harts and usurp the 
throne whilst my mother was yet alive. 

The terrors he conjur'd up could by no art be exorcis'd, 
and many trialls came therefrom, not alone in youth, but 
in my earlie manhoode. 

Neyther one supposed th' horror each dreem'd of — th' 
last of the mindes waking notiones and th' one that, draw- 
ing th' darke curtaines as night departed, had enter'd with 
th' light each morning — would take forme of th' other 
offshoot, th' favourite heyre, Robert — at th' time known 
onelie by th' borowed cognomen of Devereux, Earl of 
Essex: yet it indeed was liee, who, as though th' booke of 
their suppositions or feares was to him the one that con- 
tain'd easie lessons in treason, at last let loose th' dragon. 

For a short space, this rebellion of th' Earl of Essex 
hardly shewed as such, having beene by the counsel of his 
friends, kept wisely backe when he purpos'd landing a 
large bodie of souldiers at Milf ord Haven, expecting many 
to joyn his forces as they mov'd on towards London, and 
contenting th' proude soule, swelling to bursting in his 
breast, by taking forth two-hundred of his choycest spirits 
to give a show of greatnesse and aide him in th' secret 
projects that hee was hatching. 



6 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

His plannc was nothing lesse than [a] mad designe 
to take possession of th ' Court ; his assistants, Da^•ers, 
Davis and Blonnt, being well known, might e'ter unchal- 
lenged with a sufficient number of aydes that, scatter'd 
about, should likewise cause no remarke; at th' given signe 
diey were to seize, \^dthout confusion, th' halberdes of the 
guard, take stand, each in his previously assigned place — 
one to holde the guard- chamber, one to possess himself of 
the hall, and a third to keepe watch at the gate — whilst 
Essex should enter th' presence chamber and virtually get 
possession of the Queene, under the pretense of complain- 
ing that certaine of her advisers and informers were his 
luortall enemies, and, maki'g bold to desire Her Ma. 
should bring these men to triall, should promptly name 
some who were neither Avanting in good favor nor deficient 
in courage to occupy the places so made vacant. Then 
was Parliament to be call'd to make concessions, and the 
citty itselfe to be under his controle. 

This planne knowne perfectlie to Southampton, the 
chiefe of his frends, manifestely suited that aventurous 
assistant well, but it failed in execution as we know. 

The unwonted stir in all quarters, while Earle Robert 
had th' measure of liberty he enjoied, made Her Majesty 
watchful; also the assembling from every county of Eng- 
land of noteworthie men, nobilitie and militarie being 
chiefely obser^'^'d — not, however, throngs but slowe gath- 
erings as though one drewe afterwards another — escapt 
not her eie, whereupon the guards at Court were made 
aware o' danger and th' numbe' doubled. Report therof, 
coming to the Earle of Essex, greatly excited his feares 
least his plot had beene discovered, and hasten'd the end. 

From th' fii-st, my lord of Essex, whose whole thought 



IN ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNlNC. ",' 

clung to his originall planne of seizing th' Tower, — rely- 
ing upon th' inspector of the ordinance who had vowed to 
surrender the keyes, — and afterward, from such point o' 
vantage surprising and possesing th' cittie, attempted to 
winne th' favour of the Protestants overtlie, and of his 
Jesuit acquaintances covertly, promising the latter, I am 
trulie informed, that he would restore the Catholick faith, 
and, as his innermost being was mightily sway'd by imag- 
ination, I thinke he persuaded himselfe that hold on the 
people was sufficient to carry out these simpler plots, 
whilst hee doubted Her Majestie's graces would under- 
mine a hope built on th' faith and affection of th' gentle- 
men that were among his companie; therefore hee deter- 
min'd that a surprise would be attended by too many 
dangers, and trusting greatly to the love of th' citizens, 
fell backe on their ayde. 'Twas th' Candlemas term ere 
his plan was soe farre digested. 

His liberty being little restrain'd he had ample and 
constant meanes of carrying on his plans. As he was not 
coniin'd to his chambers at Court, it was necessary to send 
for him when he should appear before the councill, but 
when this was done my lord boldly refus'd to go, and 
straightwaye disseminated a rumour that in going thither 
in the evening he was set upon and neaidy drowned by 
Cobham, th' tool of Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir Walter 
himselfe. 

But unfortunatelie this tale was frequently varied by 
th' Earle, and at one time hee did give out that four 
Jesuits had made an attack foure dales before, for the 
same or similar purpose. This weaken'd his case so much 
that but few came at his call when he went forth bidding 
them arm and fight for their king. 



8 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

In truth he saw not many people out, for Her Majesty 
tooke the wise precaution to give order: "Arm and waite 
in readinesse within for th' call." 

But with him were now not lesse than fifteen score of 
the principall gentlemen, a company well chosen, contain- 
ing on th' part of th' nobility. Earls of Routland and of 
Southampton, Lords Sandes, Mountegle, with others; be- 
hind him he had left Earle of Worcester, Lord Keeper, 
Lord Chief Justice, Her Majestie's Comptroller, and 
beare' of th' Seal, — who had come to meet Earle Robert, 
— themselves enduring imprisonment in his house, but 
they remain'd not long in duresse. 

Th' tour of th' citty being well nigh made, my lord's 

party met Her Ma.'s troopes led forth by th' Admirall. 

Blount was wounded, Tracy kill'd; then my lord return'd 

to his owne house, and baricading the two great gates, 

defended th' house on all sides, but it aval'd not long. 

First hee begg'd for th' safe co'duct of th' Countesse, then 

surrendered. 

Sir F. 



EDMUND SPENSEK. 



SHEPHEARDS CALENDER. 



Two parts of my booke, which I set before my last 
works, may be pUaced behind everie othe' as you arrange 
the whole to decypher your instruction. I speake of Pros- 
opo, and th' Faerie Qu. but the other parts must stand 
thus, as here you finde them. Let all the remainder bee 
work'd first, as they ayde in the writing of my brother's 
history which was begunne in the second part, or book, that 
doth commence one of my gi'eat workes of Scyence and, — 
continued in the little work stiled The Wisdome of the 
Auncients, and taken up in this poeticall worke that is re^ 
published for this purpose, — maketli a compleat abridge- 
ment of the history given fully in the great Cypher. 

As hath bin said, many importante papers having beene 
destroyed by the Earle, many fetures of their plot were 
never brought out, E. Essex himselfe saying, "They shall 
be put where they cannot tell tales." But evidence was 
sufficient to prove th' guilt both of my brother and Earl 
of Southampton. Essex, his plea, that hee was not present 
at the consultation that five treason-plotting noblemen 
helde at Drury-house, ayded him not a whit, for his asso- 
ciates incriminated him, and such of their writings as had 
not beene destroyed were in the handwriting of my lord of 
Essex, as was shewne at the triall, and they were acting as 
hee directed. 

How like some nightes horrible vision this triall and 
awful torture before his execution must ever be to me. 



10 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

uone but the Judge that sitteth aloft can justlie knowe. 
All the scenes come before me like the acted play, but how 
to put it awaye, or drive it back to Avernus, its home, O, 
who can divulge that gTeatest o' secrets? Xone. 

This thought onely is fraught with a measureles pain, 
that all my power can doe nought for his memorie. If hee 
had but heard my advice, but he heeded his owne unrea- 
soning wishes only. Whilst succeeding barely in this at- 
tempt to so much as winne a hearing, yet did th' true 
love I bore soe moovo mee that, from my care o' Essex, I 
tooke a charge that greatly imperil'd my personall preten- 
sions, as I did occupy my utmost witt, and even aventure 
my own fortunes with th' Queene, to attempte th' reinte- 
gration of his. 

This, however, though it had th' will to doe Essex great 
beneiitt, was truely little lesse harmful unto my lord Rob- 
ert of Ewe, I may now admit, then to me. Queene Eliza- 
beth, my mother, yeelded nought upon the questio', tho' 'tL=! 
knowne commonly that persuasions swayed her often, (;ven 
when object seem'd as armed agaynst it. Yet this dispo- 
sition was not paramount when I made my plea in behalf 
of him, whom loving trust haplie kept in checke when a 
word of dubitancie would pricke as with a spurre. Thus 
the breach between my haplesse kinne widen'd and nothing 
may close it, for a tombe doth silence both. 

Vantages acompted great, sinmply as th' uncertaine 
dreames or visiones of night seeme to us in after time. 
Ended now is my great desire to sit in British throne. 
Larger worke doth invite my hand then majestic doth offer: 
to wield th' penne doth ever require a greater minde then 
to sway the royall scepter. Ay, I cry to th' Heavenly 
Ayde, ruling ore all, ever to keepe my soule thus humbled 
and contente. 



IN SHEPHEARDS CALENDER. 11 

O Source infinite of light, ere Time in existence was, 
save in Thy creative phm, all this tragedy unfolded before 
Thee. A night of Stygian darknesse encloseth us. My 
hope, bannish'd to reahnes above, taketh its flight through 
tlr clear aire of the Scyences, unto bright daye with Thy- 
selfe. As Thou didst conceale TTiy lawes in thick clouds, 
enfolde them in shades of mysterious gloom, Thou didst 
infuse from Thy spirit a desire to put the day's glad worke, 
th' evening's thought, and midnight's meditation to finde 
out their secret workings. 

Only thus can I banish from my thoughts my beloved 
brother's untimely cutting oft", and my wrongfull part in 
his tryall. O, had I then one thought of th' great change 
his death would cause, — how life's worth would shrinke, 
and this world's litle golden sunshine be but as collied 
night's swifte lightning, — this had never come as a hound 
of th' hunt to my idle thoughts. 

As it is now, the true meaning of events is loste to me. 
The heavens declare God's glory, but Scripture doth speak 
nowhere of His will being thus declared. In order to 
undertake this, our mindes must bee inclin'd to His in- 
struc'ion. 

This abridgement is now ended. By the ayde of the 
notes given, work out this history, for if this be lost my 
history will also bee unfinisht, so close my path lay by his. 
This you duelie have noted. 

Besides our secret storie no correcte one shall be left, 
as Her Ma., takeing a liking, early, of my writings upon a 
part of late negotiations, required a species of justification 
o' th' course, (which none surely shew'd) carried it indeed 
so as in man, his sight, Robert is helde abhorr'd; but I th' 
clerk, did the writing, or acted as Secretary, th' report fully 
satiating everyone. 



12 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 



FAERIE QUEENE. 

Some want-wit, may be, desiring note, if it uproot all 
love's fibres, would have welcom'd such a taske; so truly, 
did not I, for to me it grew to be more indirect, less honor- 
able, so to put forward my dear lord, his misdeedes, at 
Queene K — 's beheast though I did it but at her expres 
commands, and always as a Secretary to Her Majesty. 
Verilie scarce a worde remained unaltered. The language, 
even, was not wholly such as I wish'd to use, as all was 
subjected to her painefuUy searching scrutiny, and manie 
a sentence did her wcake fear, her dread of execratio', make 
her weigh and alter whilst her jcalousie cull'd out my every 
name of th' noblemen who were charged mth a lack o' 
loyalty, and th' stile that 1 emploied when I said ought 
concerning Eobert. For my honorable and just stile of 
Earl of Essex and of Ewe, as "my lord of Essex" and ^'my 
lord Robt.", — on many a page similar names and 
tearmes, — Her Ma. would suggest that it be meerly plaine 
Essex, or in place of that "th' late Earle of Essex." It 
approov'd itself to her in such degre, that my first bookes 
were suddainely and peremptory lie supprest and [and] 
printed according to commande, de novo, thereby only th' 
sure proofe giving of a judgement sharp on his lordshipp's 
illes, but subtile concearning her owne; and assuredly th' 
world may see that though she might be excelent in great 
matters she was exquisite i' the lesser. 

So much did some earlie worke on this noblest among 
noble youthes, our brothe' Robt. annoy th' Queene, we 
manifested a willingnesse to suppresse it, and because of 
soe doing were at some losse to continue our work. To 



IN FAERIE QUBBNE. 13 

this secret device, or invention, the world doth owe most 
gracious thanks for a large part of his historic. 

To Sir Clyonaen and S. Clamydes, you must conjoyne 
Orlando Furioso, and Alphonsu' King of Arragon, then 
Descensus A — , Order of the Garter, The Battayle of Alca- 
zar; add next David and Bathseba, and Edward. For this 
earlie work nothing from othe' parts neede be taken, as we 
made an attempt about that time to put th' work into lesse 
space, in order to make your task of writing th' secret 
history easy, feari'g my labours' losse if broadly scattered, 
as it was of a character more worth to me then to my 
times, and not of a secret nature after page three, or at 
most two o' th' first leav's, regarding Eobert's true name, 
and certaine matters relative to his adoption into the kind 
family whose name — that by which all England knew him, 
excepting th' principall actors that played well their parts 
i' th' drama — noe staine had touched untill this blot of 
treason fell on it. 

He was one of the adventurous, valiant, bolde spirits 
not easilie hidden in any place, and it was not, therfore, 
unseemly that the sonne of one sO' mdely and favourably 
reputed as th' first Earl of Essex, made so bolde [as] to 
wooe th' goddesse Fortune at Court. Xone knewe so trulie 
as Elizabeth, our proude unbending, roial mere, the cause 
of manie of our willfull Essex' orebearing ways. 

Th' knowledge that he was princely in truth, despite 
pretense, and, whilst at Court his nominall place and 
standi'g was onelie th' Courtier's, his rightful stile was 
Prince, th' Queene's lawful sonne, warm'd into life and 
action the ambitions that were his inherited, primal in- 
stinct. 

How far he ventured upon this royall prerogative, this 



14 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

propper right of favour and advancement, historic plainlie 
relateth, yet onelie in our Cipher-historie may scales be 
oped that guarde the secrets hid long in silente halles: for 
'tis said, wallcs have oars, none saye wallcs have a tongue, 
— trulic, none who doe visit Courts. Daring, indeed, the 
pen that can write a royal story, tho' it be in Cyphe', — 
many times as daring he that doth this task openlie. There 
bee fewe who will attempt it, and it shal not be by their 
pens we shal finde out the result — dead men tcl no tales. 

It is clear to my minde, the Earle, our father, hoped 
that his darling wishes relating to a declared heir to suc- 
ceede to the throne, were neare realization, as hee observed 
the advance in marked respect or favour th' younger sonne 
made from day to daie. Our vayne mother lov'd his bolde 
manner and free spirit, his sodaine quarrells, jealousy in 
soule o' honour, strength in love. She saw in him her 
owne spirit in masculine moulde, full of youth and beauty. 

To her fate, a turn of Fortune's wheel had given th' 
gift of royaltie, and th' throne of mighty England was hers 
to bcestow on whom her heart mought choose. Little won- 
der that false fancy sway'd where better judgement, in- 
fected, had loste power, and that impatient T^. L — won 
nought in that struggle but fcare and distresse. My just 
claime he set aside liking better their valiant lion-heart — 
ihxis they tearm'd him — howsoever unmecte, or unjust. 

A desire t' foyl yeeldes luride light on everything ther- 
after: his one wish ever gleaming brightlie through the 
clouds of pretense, and T receive my Qu from that alter'd 
appearance of th' skies, yet doe not trulic give over, as he 
doth suppose. Kot withstanding overtly, any of my ill- 
advised sire's aspiring purposes, or planus, — for often shall 
dif-simulation, though a faint kind of wisdome prove verie 



IN FAERIE QUEENE. 15 

good policie, — jet, in th' secrecy o' my owne bosome, I do 
still hold to th' faith that my heart has never wholly sur- 
rendered, that truth shall come out from error and my 
head be crowned ere my line o' life be sev'red. 

How many times this bright dreeme hath found lodge- 
ment in my braine! how manie more hath it beene shunn'd 
as an influence of Pluto's darke realme! It were impos- 
sible, I am assur'd, since witnesses to th' marriage and to 
my birth (after a proper length of time) are dead, and the 
papers certifying their preasence being destroyed, yet is it 
a wrong that will rise, and a crye that none can hush. 
Strive as I may, it is onely driv'n from my braine by th' 
unceasing tossing of this sea of laboring cogitations for th' 
advancement of learning. Ofte driven as 'twere with 
sodaine wind or tide, its waves strike 'gainst the very vault 
of th' heav'ns and breake in uselesse wreaths o' bubbling 
froth. 

Think not in your inmost heart that you or any others 
whom you would put in the same case as ours, would mani- 
fest a wiser or calmer minde, because none who doe not 
stand as I stood on Pisgah's very height, do dream of the 
faire beautie of that land that I have scene. England as 
she might bee if wisely govern'd, is th' dream or beautious 
vision I see from Mt. Pisgah's loftie toppe. 

It is noe improper exaltation of selfe, when one, feeling 
in heart and brayne the divine giftes that fit him for his 
Princely destiny — or that rightly inherited albeit wronglie 
withholden soveraignty — in true, noble, kingly spirit doth 
looke for pow'r, not for th' sake of exercising that gift, but 
that he may uplifte his people from th' depth of misery 
into which they constantlie sink, to th' firm rocke of such 
mode of life as would change cries to songs of praise. 



16 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

You will, ere jour work be compleated, see — either in 
my word method of imparting these inner epistles, or writ 
soe plaine that none shall fayl to comprehende — a form or 
designe of a modell land, as anie might be with propper 
govemours; but you must tarrie for it a space, inasmuch 
as it existeth, as yet, but in my thought. 

However I say not, wait idly till we carrie this to its 
full perfection, since a great part remaineth now to work 
out from these various Cyphers that T here use, and, friend, 
to cease labour now would truly be to lose that history that 
I have desired above every other work to Avrite, that a com- 
ing people in th' future, having read the false declarations 
made in writings given then, blinding eyes to deepe, justlie 
censured wrongs, might understand motives of action as 
well as the true historic of events. 

And you will soone observe that I have told my owne 
sad story with the same opeuheartednesse as that which 
revealeth other secrets for my verie soule is open'd that th' 
world might looke on it and reade of my hard lot, having 
to choose between life, libertie of the citty, freedom, and 
a promise of future recognizance of service, and tlr same 
for my dear Robert. 

Reasoning that no pow'r sliould prevaile with her Ma- 
jestic, I felt bow ill-advis'd a sacrifice o' life and its 
enchantments must be, that surely would be of no effect. 
I have spirit of sufficient fire, T thinke, for such hap as is 
probable to my station, not enough to support me in tor- 
ture, nor to lead forth anie enfans perdus. Seeing th' 
hopeless state treason-loving Essex was in, T knew I had 
but to continue my plea, urging that forgivenes might bee 
accorded to Essex, to close th' last egTesse from a cell, or 
lead to th' gallowes. Thus was my way hedged about, 
thick clouds hid th' path from sight. 



IN FAERIE QUEENE. 17 

In the last stanzo is a directio' to th' next following 
works to co'tinu the storie thus begun. It must be writte' 
before any othe' for 'tis most co'plete, and interio' writings, 
while pleasing when discypher'd, are somewhat wearying. 

As work of anie kind was meant by Him that impos'd 
the curse on sinfull man to be ad correctionem et non ad 
ruinam, it will benefit us both. A meete punishment, 
trulie, and one that shall in turne make the very curse 
bless'd, and everie man most envyde who can say as doth 
your attentive friend : This hand will accompli'h a worthie 
labour for future use, which shal bee the monument where 
th' whole of these studies are shewn forth and deficiencies 
enumerated. Since it doth more ayde mankind to point 
out what is lacking then to prepare all your woorke so that 
nothing shall longer remaine to bee found out, — for it is 
man's delight to find out mysteries, but th' glory of God to 
conceale some matters, — with a preside't of highest, meas- 
uselesse, supreme wisdome, is a divine modell for man to 
followe. N^or do we find that Holie Scripture hath any 
prohibition against an acquisition of knowledge intended 
only for th' world's betterment. He who is not against us 
— it is noe lesse true to-day then it was sixteene centuries 
ago, so that I say, nor shall it aske anie further explanation, 
noe man's hand is better employ'd then his who searcheth 
out a hidden matter. 

If you continue this worke to the end you shall have 
reward suflFicient, I think to advantage you as well as ad- 
vaunce my invention, and make knowne my historic for 
th' better satisfaction of those who see deeps in Engla'd's 
historie that have th' blood of her sonnes therein. 

A Queene's edict, if not her yron hand, killed such a 

man that for valour and manly spirit was unequal'd. 

FR. BACON. 



BEN lOKSON. 

ENTERTAYNMENT. 

Keepe many keies and joyning wordes in minde, that 
ai-e now eniploy'd in my Homer, for your writing will pro- 
ceed faster if yon have many well memorized when yon 
decypher this work. Allthongh th' parts are small, and a 
great manie workes containe the scatter'd portions, it hath 
til' joy and somewhat th' excitement of sport — even that 
of th' chase — in pursnite, therefore doe not fall out by th' 
waye nor allow anie to passe by you, as it doth surely ope 
to you a path as wondrous as anie that doth winde through 
th' fields of knowledge, to that divine hight, — in view long 
ere th' feete may attayn unto it, — upon Olympus' toppe. 
Oft doe I muse upon th' ultimity of this Ciphe', and 8skp 
whose hand may compleate it. It may be that of some 
man whom dayly I have scene going to and fro in th' 
martes and halls of th' Citty. It may, perchance, be some 
sharpc spye of th' court whose zeale would be my death. 
But my hope is, that not th' yeares but th' ages shall 
unfolde my secret historic, and reverse a decision that hath 
beene given respecting th' Queene, my mothe', my o^vne 
birth-right, and many othe' things of interesse, but of ev'n 
so small valow as that, did they rather conoearn th' com- 
monalty then royal persons, they might not bee read. 
However, admiration of greatnesse is natural 1. Ev'n the 
foibles of a Queene would please at so remote a day. 

BACON. 



IN KING'S CORONATION. 19 



KINGS CORONATION. 



This work is also Bacon's, intended meerelie to ayde in 
prodncing some parts of the translations. Some have beene 
found repeated too often, yet as the partes should not bee 
lost, this Entertaynment was devis'd that all should appear 
in convenient order. Bee not too hasty in condemni'g 
this meanes unto my end, for manie were th' devices, much 
th' patience, and long th' houres giv'n to the work, so that 
very little might bee left unfinish't should my summons 
come unexpectedl}^ at midnight, at noon, or at morning. 
It was done with an eie single to your best good. Here is 
no strife after excellence of stile and diction, but an effort 
in your owne interesse. 

You should joyne to this Entertaynment, A Panegyre, 
and all the following Entertaynments in their naturall 
order. B. 

A PANEGYRE. 

There is more Virgil here, but a part is Homer. Marke 

keyes. 

BACON. 

MASQUES. 

In Essay Of Masques and Tryuniphs you may see tliis 
much esteemed device mention'd. In my plays matters 
are chosen not alone for value as a subject to heare and no 
longer heed. Each play is the meane, or th' medium, by 
which cipher histories are sent forth. Thus all will, at th' 
least, serve a twofold purpose, and in Homer's two mightie 
workes (as in Virgill's) a trebble, for we treated all transla- 
tions in th' first of our cipher work in a manner very like 



aO BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

that we followed in concealing our secret historie, but you 
can see easily that tli' former are separated into a greater 
number of parts. This was necessarie because o' th' stories 
told in them, that could not be used in large portio's, in 
Cypher writing. Xe'erthelesse they serv'd well their pur- 
pose, which was to emploie this method of transmitting, — 
as it is my invention, possessing th' nature of simple ques- 
tioning and experiment, — and to preserve my works. 

I wish'd to have th' translations kept untill a future 
race of men, or at th' least scholars of our owne day rathe' 
then th' commoners, have mark'd, in my open workes under 
different names, a certaine stile that shall prove their origin 
to be th' same, because it will bee impossible to decn'pher 
them fullie untill all th' works shall be conjoyn'd. When 
this is done and all th' keyes to put th' parts together have 
beene found, seeke th' arguments which are given in th' 
bi-literall Cypher, and th' most of your difficultie shal bee 
overcome. 

Do not turne backe untill all th' secret histories shall 
have been written, for you can find the true records no 
where else. From portio's o' my Cypher, secrets which the 
Queene suspected some one would attempt to publish, may 
bee work'd out mth a measure of skill, patient labour and 
perseverance. Those who shall turn back meerely to avoid 
difficulties, should ever look to have none of the prizes of 
life. Th' Holy Scripture saith : Whoever putteth his hand 
upon th' plough and looketh backe is not fit for th' heav- 
enly kingdome; nor is he that turneth backe from this 
work fit for th' kingdome of knowledge. 

Th' work you here note, i. e., th' Masques, must bee 
employ'd in writing whole portiones of th' Iliads that were 
(HfTiciilt to adapt to moderne poetry or to stage plays. This 



IN MASQUES. U 

you will, I doubt not, see ere this, but least it escape your 
attention I have mention'd it in this place and in other 
parts of th' work. If iterant rules should weary you 
beyond endurance, pray remember this: the work is as a 
circle with no apparent beginning: those parts written first 
may bee last found, therefore I repeat all these directions, 
and, too, I would fain make easier th' heavy taske impos'd 
on you, and my greatest labour hath been to but one end — 
that of so ayding your part of th' work as should assure its 
successe. If once well understood th' chief requiring can 
bee quickly seen to bee perseverance. Of this I have not 
lesse neede myselfe then my decypherer, as this must be 
done carefuly, and all hath beene at least twice written, 
as my cypher work or th' interior letters must have cov'ring. 
Th' exterior part is so varied, so diverse in both matter and 
methods of treatment, that it serveth my purpose well, con- 
cealing a great work yet also revealing th' keyes design'd 
to open th' secret portalls. And although th' waye may 
sometimes seem like an endlesse labyrinth, you cannot f aile 
to thrid it if you heede my rules. 

You will finde as you progresse that I have made your 
tasks more pleasing then at first, and remember, pray, that 
your owne name is, or must yet be, inseparably joyn'd with 
mine: therefore, if honour cometh to me by my wise use o' 
th' heav'n sent talents emploied in this invention, you must 
share in th' renowne. It is to none other I may looke for 
ayde to bring my work forth to men's sight. Your hand 
may roll the stone away from the door of the sepulcher and 
set this Cipher free. It is not dead — it sleepeth, not for 
four short dayes like Lazarus of old, but doubtlessly for 
yeares, perhaps for centuries. Is it not then an act deserv- 
ing M'orld-wide fame? Trust mee it shall not faile, but in 



as BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

every land in which the English language hath a place, 
sliall it be known and honoured. 

As hath already been said Homer (Iliads and a great 
part of the Odysses) and Virgil (.Eneid and some of the 
.Eglogues) were helpfull to me when this invention, of 
which I am now giving the historie, was at first emploied. 
Finding that this might be follow'd with ease in my his- 
torie by a key that I us'd, I then follow'd a similar plan 
respecting the whole, separating it into parts and using 
these fragments after th' same manner in all the workes 
that I publish'd in my owne (so call'd) name, or that of 
others. Spenser, Greene, Peele, Marlowe have sold me 
theirs, — two or three others I have assum'd upon certaine 
occasions such as this, beside th' one I beare among men. 

My owne should be like that of my mother — TidderjTjj^^: 
since I am sonne to th' Queene who came of that line, and 
as her eldest born, should now sit in her throne in place 
of him whom she made her hcire, according to Cecill's 
report; but as I am known among English speaking peo- 
ples by the name you (untill now) thought to be rightfully 
mine, i. e., th' name of my foster parents — Bacon, — it is 
honourable and honored, — yet have I vowed to make 
worthier, greater, and more renowTied either stile, then it 
hath beene since it was first bestowed. 

The voyce of Fame should be as lowd as thunder, when 
she doth speake of me in comming years, for all my labour, 
looking toward the future, would bring om* harvest-time 
when our dayes are not upon the sphere wee now inhabit. 
Shall not my work endure while Homer's doth, since from 
it I have form'd here a beauteous casket, well-wrought, 
curiously joyn'd, with Jewells richly set, for his pricelesse 
gift, no other having such beauty and worth? Even as 



IN MASQUES. 23 

Alexander when he was given that rich and costly casket 
o' King Darius, commanded that it bee reserv'd to hold 
Homer, his two bookes — the Illiads and the Odysses, — 
since he could think of nothing more precious. This storie 
furnisht me a pretext and suggested the plann which I 
forthwith carried to perfection, and as I have said, it so 
well serv'd the purposes of the gTeat Ciphe' which I have 
been teaching you that I have never regretted the experi- 
ment. 

When th' Masques — in my friend Ben Jonson's name — 
with Part o' th' King's Coronall Entertaynment have 
been entir'ly decipher'd, take Greene's and Peele's workes 
in th' order giv'n in th' Faerie Queene. My plaies are 
not yet finisht, but I intend to put forth severall soone. 
However, bi-literall work requiring so much time, it will 
readily be scene that there is much to doe after a booke 
doth seeme to bee ready for the presse, and I could not 
well saye when other plays will come out. The next volume 
will be under W. Shakespeare's name. As some which 
have now beene produced have borne upon the title page 
his name though all are my owne work, I have allow'd it 
to stand on manie others which I myselfe regard as equall 
in merite. When I have assum'd men's names, th' next 
step is to create for each a stile naturall to th' man that 
yet should [let] my owne bee scene, as a thrid o' warpe in 
my entire fabricke soe that it may be 

(Incomplete — pages lost from volume.) 



BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 



SEJANUS. 

Question, or some other form or inaiiner of inquiry, 
and answer are your word-signs by which you may worke 
out my secret story herein co'cealed. This story concerns 
some of the chief personages of th' realme, first of all, 
our late despised parent, th' cause and th' renower o' th' 
ills that we endured. My sole object doth appeare in this 
later work — the play of Sejanus. 

Xone know half so well as I, th' underplay carried 
along in court in order t' secure my withdra\\'all from an 
unexampled field, wherein a mother strove against a sonne 
whose right to the succession to th' throne she did ignore 
and co'stantly avoid. Her unbending steme temper, 
strong in death, set the seal upon my future as on my 
past life, since her will was th' law governing both. My 
owne spirit alone doth atteste how potent for good or for 
ill the dicta of such a woman may bee. 

Here alone is that long epistle to my to-bee decipherer 
that must be most observed in this worke. Seeke it out. 
Take my keies and unlocke my inner chamber. There 
will my hidden secrets be revealed fully, that he that shaJ 
willinglie lift the heavy vaile, should now ope th' treasure- 
casket which contains th' story of my life, as well as my 
late brother, his death. It is ev'n with wrought-ores 
thickly covered : gems rare and costive shine upon its sides : 
in the small room within you will find uncounted treasure, 
nches beyond your dreames of earthlie acquisition. The 
whole shall be the reward of my decypherer and will repay 
most generouslie his entire devotion to this labour. 



IN SEJANUS. 3$ 

As I have said, our newe designe shall give much pleas- 
ure, while it so amplie rewardeth the true worker. Seeking 
after any learning is a pleasure; seeking after what is hid- 
den, a delight, — none soe pure — forever springing up in 
fresh joy, as th' water of a meadowe spring gusheth forth 
to th' light. 

My next work is not begun here: much of it shall bee 
found in th' playes o' Shakespeare which have not yet 
come out. We having put forth a numbe' of plays i' his 
theatre, shall continue soe doing since we doe make him 
th' thrall to our will. Our name never accompanieth anie 
play, but it frequently appeareth plainly in Cypher for 
witty minds to transla'e from Latine and Greeke. As this 
is never seen, the secret still remained inside its treasure- 
house unsought of every one. This is yet hidden as in dim 
shadowy mists, but soone shall you have the whole of th' 
most worthy parts of this great cypher-writing, wrought 

much more finely then gold. 

FRANCIS BACON. 



FRANCIS BACON. 



HENRY THE SEVENTH. 



As you are beginning now to decypher a most interest- 
ing play, a portion of which doth concern my history, you 
get in a newe manor keyes, or sigTies, anie eye not blinde 
will only too truly note: or, indeed, not a newe Ciphe' but 
th' first modified. 1 will, however, as much change my 
newe, for what be most oft observ'd doff greatlie the ayde 
and protection, reall and known, o' unfamiliaritie. 

^rarke t, f, c and e. See that in no place have th' 
accents on a K at midle of th' front where this joyneth t' 
th' uprighte, yet overturn'd it. Th' letter hath still only 
such a use, in our modell or forme, as it might in or by 
vertue of its fonn. l^ut we do contrive t' make most pecu- 
liar, artfull shiftes, that so much shelter our most evident 
])retensions, it is a subtler or swifter mind can followe us 
then most men do possesse. Take care for all of oiu- 
accented letters, and do not baffle us. That I, by curious, 
noteworthie skill, so hide this secret, it fullie proveth t' 
everybody of just temper, somewhat better then by words, 
how much greate' valew th' inne' portions possesse then th' 
]3art seene. 

Bacon is to many only a great autho', quick with his 
writi'g. None see or mark, in most cases, the plays, yet 
i' imagination suppose the offendi'g scenick playes some 
task a g'ild should naturalie do, not my rude invention. 
I have produced four from ancie't Latine and Greeke. 
Many such sorts burrie the works that I have said must 
bee written soon. Your reall art, that may truly require 



IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 21 

th' best of joiir time, is, however jou meet m' requests, 
thus of most acco'. It is a subtly plann'd Cipher that 1 
have us'd with a most free [hand] to east off gloomie 
reflexions. 

You can marke these chang'd: capital W, C, Z, U — c, 
small, as you alreadie have some time noted, is at present, 
if unchanged by dots, in accorde with all, but h, d, g, 
disti'ctly alter their stile. After they attach some marke, 
all our letters (as if one ha' struck a gale) turn keel; a 
then becometh b, and b, a. Your quick eie catches, soon, 
all this that aids them greatly in working th' storie out in 
full; but in so much of th' Cipher as is easilie follow'd, it 
is too transparent. If, therefore, you finde it mo' trieth or 
co'fuseth, seeke in a portio' of our historick works (in th' 
Iamb) a law relating to th' double Cipher, as it, here, 
would at once bee seen. 

These are th' plays, which you shall yet find, that 
Kawley would urge us to present, in the name you will 
alwayes honor ere it shall receyv' th' lofty but worthie 
title belonging t' it — better, I doubte, then when our 
story's written. The fact very surely proveth most fully 
how much envie maketli home both i' a' elevated minde, 
and in th' vulgar. 

I am indeed by vertue of my birth, that royall, thoug' 
grossly wrong'd son t' our most glorious, yet most faulty — 
I ca' find no stronger terms — Queene Elizabeth, of th' 
stocke that doughtie Edward truely renowned. 0' such 
stock Henries Eifth, Seventh and Eighth, historic battle 
kings, came, like branches sent from the oakes. My true 
name is not as in some backe pages it was giv'n, but Tudor. 
Bacon was only foster parent to my early youth, yet was 
as loving and kinde to me as to his owne sonne, careful! o' 



28 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

iny education, and even aspiring to my high advancement. 
I>ut to Mistresse Anne Bacon, ever quick with her sim- 
pathie and wise to advise, do I owe a greater or warmer 
iiratitiide, since she did much more truly and constantlie 
guard, guide, protecte and counsell me. 

Moreover, to her I do owe my life, for though she did 
hut rear me, not being, defacto^ my mother, it was by her 
intervention that the houre of nativitie did not witnesse 
my death. Her Ma. would truly have put me away 
privilie, but Mistresse Bacon, yearning ove' helplesse baby- 
hood, saved me, having held ove' me a hand o' protectio'. 
My attempts in after years to obtain my true, just and 
indisputable title of Prince o' Wales, heire-apparent to th' 
throne, must not however bee thought or supposed to indi- 
cate that I held myselfe disinteressed o' these obligations, 
offer'd affronte to these kind benefactors, or in any waye 
conducted myselfe in such manner as Avould either cast 
reflexio's upo' my breeding, or doe discredit to my birth. 
It may clearly be seen that it was but the most common- 
place of ideas — an actio' barelie ambitious, because 'twas 
simply naturall. But it fail'd most sadly, for th' would- 
bee Virgin Queene, with promptnesse, (not liking our peo- 
ple's hearts to be set upon a king) before my A, B, 6"*, 
even, were taught to me, or th' elements of all learning, 
instructe' my tutores t' instill into my young minde a 
desire t' do as my foster father had done, aspiring to high 
political advancement, look for enduring renowne there; 
MOt dreaming, even, o' lack wherein I should looke for 
many honours, since I was led to think I was borne t' 
nothing higher. 

Of a truth in her gracious moodes, my royall mother 
shewed a certaine pride in me when she named me her 



IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 20 

little Lo^J^jeeper, but not th' Prince — never owned that 
that be truelj the rightfull title I should beare, till Cecill 
did sorely anger her and bring on one o' those outbreaks o' 
tempe' against one of th' ladies o' her traine who, foolish 
to rashnesse, [did] babble such gossip to him as she heard 
at the Court. I' her look much malicious hatred biirn'd 
toward me for ill-avis'd interference, and in hastie indig- 
nation said: 

"You are my own borne sonne but you, though truly 
royall, of a fresh, a masterlie spirit, shall rule nor Eng- 
land, or your mother, nor reigne ore subjects yet t' bee. 
I bar from succession forevermore my best beloved first- 
bome that bless'd my unio' with — no, I'll not name him, 
nor need I yet disclose the sweete story conceal'd thus 
faiTe so well men only guesse it, nor know o' a truth o' th' 
secret marriages, as rightfull to guard the name o' a 
Queene, as of a maid o' this realm. It would well beseeme 
you to make such tales skulk out of sight, but this suteth 
not t' your kin'ly spirit. A sonne like mine lifteth hand 
nere in aide to her who brought him foorth; hee'd rather 
uplift craven maides who tattle thus whenere my face 
(aigre enow ev'r, they say) turneth from them. What will 
this brave boy do? Tell a, h, c's f " 

Ending her tirade thus she bade me rise. Tremblingly 
I obeyed her charge, summon'd a serving-man to lead me 
to my home and sent to Mistresse Bacon. "That mother 
of my dark Atimies shall free my name," said I, "for 
surelie I am her sonne. May mother lie, or cruel Fates do 
rae like wrong? My God! let not a lot more hard, alas, 
then death come t' me. When a ripe evil doth breake 
upon wicked men, th' justice i' Thy holie law, ev'n in 
chastiseme't holdeth men — not that arrow of pestilence: 



30 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

luit I am innocent, O my Cod! Visit not the evill we 
imif'h scorn, on me tli' innocuous fruit." 

In tir (lark I waged warre manfully, supposing that my 
life in all the freshnesse of youth wa.s made unbearable. 
It did so mucli exhaust, that, afte' pause of a moment, I 
brast flood-like into Mistres Bacon's chamber and told her 
my storie. No true woman can beare th' sight o' any 
tear. I grasped her arm, weeping and sobbing sore, and 
entreated her (artfully, as 1 thought, hidi'g my secret), t' 
say 'pon oath I was i' truth the sonnc of hei*selfe and her 
honoured husband. I made effort to conceal my fear that 
I was base sonne to the Queene, per contra, I eke, most 
plainlie shew'd it by my distresse. When therefore ray 
sweet mother did, weeping and lamenting, owne to me 
that I was in very truth th' sonne o' th' Queene, I burst 
into maledictio's 'gainst th' Queene, my fate, life, and all 
it yieldeth, till, wearie, on bent knees I sank down, and 
floods o' tears finished my wilde tempestuous invective. 
When, howsoever, that deare ladie saw this, with womanly 
wisedome, to arrest fury or perchance to prevent such 
despaire, said to me: 

"Spare my ear, or aim rightly, boy, for you do wrong 
your mother with such a thought. Pause least as to Absa- 
lom a sudden vengeance come. When you list to my 
words, you then will knowe that you do also wTong that 
noble gentleman, your father. Earl Robert, at the meere 
mention o' this folly would rise in great wrath and call 
down Heaven's judgements on you." 

At the word, I besought her to speake my father's name, 
when granting my request, she said: "lie is the Earle 
of Leicester." Then as it made me cease to sob, she said 
againe: "I tooke a most solemne oath not to reveale your 



IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 31 

storie to you, but you may hear my unfinish'd tale to th' 
end if you will go to th' midwife. Th' doctor would be 
ready also to give proofes of your just right to be named 
th' Prince of this realm, and heire-apparent to the throne. 
Neverthelesse Queene Bess did likewise give her solemn 
oath of bald-faced deniall of her marriage to Lord Leices- 
ter, as well as her motherhood. Her oath, so broken, robs 
me of a sonne. Francis, Francis, breake not your 
mother's heart! I cannot let you go forth after all the 
years you have beene the sonne o' my heart. But night is 
falling. To-day I cannot longer speake to you of so 
weighty a matter. This hath mov'd you deepely and 
though you now drie your eyes, you have yet many teare 
marks upon your little cheekes. Go now; do not give it 
place, i' thought or word, a brain-sick woman, though she 
be a Queene, can take my sonne from me. Retire at once, 
my boy." 

With "Farewell," her heart half bursting, she bade mee 
leave her, and I, fond boy, kingly power deerly yearn t' 
winn — dreame of goldene scepters, prou' couris, and by- 
and-by a crowne on mine innoce't brow. Alledg'd oathe, 
or any unrighteous rule, sho'ld never from the English 
throne barre the grand-sonne to Henry th' Eight,sonne to 
Elizabeth i' lawfull marriage; and by vertue of these 
rights, in that it is the stile of the eldest sonne o' Eng- 
land's Soveraigiie, no lesse then that of the Prince o' 
Wales is my proper title. 

In due course o' time, however, I, at dale's meridian, 
was by my newe-found royall mother re-call'd and given 
private audience. I learn'd from the interview, and sub- 
sequent occurrences, that th' matter was trulie to be mar- 
gente of my desire, and that it was, at present, in f ancie 



88 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

that 1 bore this loftj name, or a stile other then that 
actnally mine in my home. A princely name, it seemed, 
was one to bee thought upon, not reckon'd 'pon as apt to 
bee given me; for so all fabrickes, baselesse, (though one, 
no doubt, shall be ev'n t' th' end of life busily construct- 
ing) i' woful mines upon lowly shiftinge sands do fall. 

I mention'd that although 'twas guess'd by one [that] 
another is rightfully the husband of this subtle Queene, 
(nor can he make lesse ill-timed propositions) he so wisht 
to betray her to the entire nation as one unworthy their 
respec', by airs of enamour'd address not onely, but in a 
formall most princely and courtlie wonte ask'd (at an 
extra especial session of th' Queene's abated, astounded 
and disspleased private councel) negotiations. All wayes 
and meanes of avoiding th' open declaration were adopted 
at once. The royall suitor, however, as a Poleak at missing 
aime, was angered, and, great ado making, did so disturb 
our great men, — who, as birdes are amidst hawkes, were 
thereat cow'ring with fear o' publick disgrace, — that many 
saw this. As it influenced State affaires, it was admirable. 
If no act made th' heires of Elizabeth rightfullie bastard, 
it was proper some meanes to shew legitimacy, that will 
in no waye cause tumult throughout England, be ofer'd. 
Any such measure found no kinde of regard i' th' sight o' 
vain minded Qu(>ene Elizabeth, whose look traineth men 
as vain as her owne selfe. Th' would-be idole of half the 
great princes of Europe, — concluding it would be lesse 
pleasing in a fewe yeares to have all the people knowe that 
she is the wife of th' Earle of Leicester, then suppose her 
the Virgin Queene she call'd herselfe, — both props and 
shields alike despis'd, nor did she at any subsequent time 
reverse her decision. For such a triviall, unworthie, un- 



IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 33 

righteous cause was mj birthrighte lost, and nought save 
the strong will of Elizabeth turned men from conspiracie 
t' place me on th' throne. To winne backe their loyalty 
she assum'd most kingly aires, and, upon occasion har- 
angued the army, riding upon a richly caparison'd horse 
before the lines, and naming herselfe th' King. I for 
dear life dare not to urge my claim, but hope that Time 
shall ope th' waye unto my rightfull honors. 

The story of my entire life is told in some most subtile 
waies. My plays, (now so nearly completed, that we pre- 
mise we may to him great glory bring i' whose name I 
write) have letters which I write to you in my other, more 
principall, typic, or word-sign Cypher, that like that card 
a ship's watchfull mate nere taketh his eye off in a time 
of storm, must be closely observ'd. 

Kound certaine words that I name keyes, one cluster 
may bee seene to have its place in othe' kinds o' worke. T' 
aid in finding keyes, some words are not capitalized : when- 
ere a fewe such are repeated frequentlie, take note of it 
and our design, which wee saw written in a night vision, 
will take its proper form i' th' minde. Let th' wordes in 
parenthese' next to be found. IST. B. every time such seem 
to be us'd ad lihitum . it showeth they are keies. Such use 
o' capitalls meaneth that this pointeth out th' words I will 
so use. 

But it is by othe' devices, as in cloth o' Persian silk, 
a patterne soon openeth out of the confusio'. Any aven- 
turous worker can easilie trace it if he doth get th' true art. 
Th' keys tak'n are aids onely. Seeke out all of the Avorks 
I name, ere th' deciph'ring naturally attracteth you so 
continually, no pledg'd attentive devotion to more labor- 
ious work may hold you to this necessary part. Let all 



84 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

things be done carefullie and in order, following the way 
I, darkly, have pointed out to yon and seeke diligently for 
tho light. 

Xo sparkc sheweth from th' tiiut until it be strucke, 
nor can yon findc th' fitfull sparkes that hide within om* 
pages if you doe not work in manifold wayes, in season and 
out, to uneove' our flinty Ciphers and strike them sharpely. 
Look not to finde a steady raye that doth as sunlight shine 
unfalteringly. 'Tis as swift lightning; ev'n before we say, 
"Lo it is there!" 'tis gone, and vastie darkenesse swalloweth 
up our sight. However, 'tis quite sufficient for my pur- 
pose, and as more light would defeate rather then further 
famous designes, to have bestowed more were foolish 
waste. My decypherer alone doth get the benefit, while 
spies o' all sorts are dazzled and misled. Wherefore take 
good heart, for not all now see what is revealed to one 
that hath found what is the law of our Ciphers; for, for 
years, I, an eager follower after all learning, have so 
laboured t' finish this worke and to perfect it, that you 
cannot misse my object. A system so exact must in the 
end yi(dde what our designe doth intend. 

Proceed, therefore, in this manne'. Seeke near each 
key that othe' or joining-word, which you will find oft 
repeated, and bring parts together. I knowe you feel a 
desire to write at once, and beg you to be in no haste, for 
if you leave searching out th' keycs and putting apart the 
materials for the building o' th' pall aces, you will be as 
a beggar going from door t' door without a wall that can 
keepe off tempestuous winds or a roofe to shelter you. 
Yet if you shall, as I direct, patientlie collect the blockes 
of marble, which are already polish VI and prepar'd, — 



IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 35 

Like t' a king's th' shining walls shall rise, 

While high upon the loftie gleaming tow'rs 

Th' golden roofe may outbrave Illium's. 

'Ko sound shall come o' anie instruments, 

As any iron tools, or ax, or hammer: 

As in the beauteous temple, as we read, 

In silent grandeur stone on stone was reared, 

So noiselesse, so inaudible shall bee 

The building of my glorious pallaces. 

Let no conspiracie t' make you leave 

For idole Fancie' noble Truth's faire realme, 

A moment winne you, but for this assay 

Break cressive love, throw off th' filmy band! 

Nor in th' mazes of a winding way 

Is risk'd a foot of him that would out-go 

In fleetnes stepps of winged Mercury; 

Then stray not in, or, ere one is aware, 

The entrance to th' labyrinth's quite lost — 

Th' unmarking eies nor see nor read th' signs 

Which of the strait and narrow way do make, 

A shini'g pathway to th' golden mount. 

The purposes, like to a weather-cock that chang'd, 
Turning ere lazie eies had noted it, 
Ne'er made one master o' the Grecia' art, — 
That wondrous use made both o' stone and canvass, — • 
Neyther can sto'ier defiant Cipher, 
As flint-like as th' hardest stone now wrought, 
Bee rounded so to-day t' symmetry, 
Ilnlesse old rules shall next reveale a keye. 
I eke in verse, sing of my one great theame; 
In verse we told the story o' our birth. 
If one or other should on halting feet, 



86 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Liiii]) (^n apace, Icnify easily, 
And oft undo parts never justly given 
So that at best this shall by iteration. 
Shew its full use. 
As th' object is gained by that, better, in very truth, 
and more easily — of a niark'd degree — we have in many 
places, oft on beginning a new portion, given th' deciph- 
erer in manner ditfering, (but in nothing of importance 
changed) repetition of our work as you may see. Always, 
as you will perhaps note, tli' law wrought compleatelio to 
perfection, giveth you the whole story. To place the 
cardes then soe carefullie that no losses can hap, was not 
an easie taske; but I have not yet seen any ground of 
feare that my designe may be at fault. All is cleare as 
A. B. C. T wag'd my best, and it repayeth the outlay 
well. 

Though as to the dramatic as fundamental works I can 
finde noe fault, the limits of historic we found cramping; 
for as in fa] play nothing unnaturall is of anie use, you 
find, in writi'g a simple tale o' history onlie the truth 
availetli. It better doth aid th' writer of events t' have 
little imagination. ^ book rightly giveth truth in its 
beautie more fame then any story i' brass monuments, 
and the names o' authors living may grace it. And I, 
for T greatly desire fame, have rear'd high my noble pile, 
but only the letter I have written to my decypherer hath 
the secre' o' my untiring heart and hand. Pile the lofty 
works to mark my tomb. I ask no truer monument. 

Although this is risking the losse o' tlr most valew'd 
works, still T would tliat it be so left, for reasons which 
r must, at tlr l)eck o' th' heavy hand death wicldoth, shew 
mito th' world; but no historic save mine reveals th' story, 



IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 31 

as it doth beseem secret letters. I, but fabricke of my 
fancy it will sound, yet it hath truth in all. Even his- 
torick writi'gs may draw somewhat upon that for aid, yet 
my worthy work's not kin. Leave most futile and worth- 
lesse attempts to undo me: This truth must span that 
narrow arch above Time's current, where soft hued rain- 
bows give promise of the car, banded with gold, i' which 
we note Apollo in his pride, who ever carryeth t' th' sonnes 
o' men his beauteous beams of light. Daye he lends the 
beautie pure and shining that crownes her awful brow, 
and Eve >vinns, too, th' gold tipt arrow wrought to so fine 
a point, that shiny spear-head is sirnam'd a starre. 

As hath beene said, it was such a very difficult under- 
taki'g to adapt another historic to the purposes of the 
Ciphers, we let our judgement oft-times decide upon the 
manner of narration, alwayes provided the truth did by 
this method by no meanes suffer. Whenever this soe 
meerly formall device failed, manic more were soon de- 
vised. A mark in lines I wish to have divided, when 
found in the other or Latine tipe, shall have to such an 
eye a newe significance, not such as it would have in th' 
Italic. As you see I blent everie eye, save one, in this. 

Next I us'd numerous means (nor on being examin'd 
do th' manie works beare indication o' revealing the 
secret), even reckoned better in use for manie sorts o' 
writi'gs. By using much time to perfect the plaim, even 
of rest and sundrie such, so-called, necessities deprived 
thereby many weekes, I found the methods as day after 
day went by easily employed and easily seen, but free 
fro' suspition. A name can be given so, for ere anie other 
eye sees aught but an ordinarie name of articles in com- 
mon use, the thoroughlie taught decipherer sees some of 



38 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

my pcnn names; and as for fears, I anticipating them ns'd 
severall different names for one, making anie pursuite 
fruitlesse. Even this marginal! work, hath aid for the 
decipherer, and also other signes are cressets bearing lights 
to mark the waye that I would have him walke; yet would 
my truer, i. e., the more worth' Cipher-work, end ere all 
bee well understoode, were this alwayes confined to rules, 
signes, etcsetera. It is to make each a lockt doore to all 
save my decipherer. 

But, at th' same time, t' diversify th' worke siificientlie, 
at th' beginning many of my simple lines arc to be found 
so\viie so freely throughout the work of this Ciphe' (in 
truth that said w^ork so much doth alter this task) that 
need o' a pleasanter, as shall soon be seen, cannot be felt 
or knowne, but a love and devotion to th' work shall set 
a newe motif into action. 

Also, in th' Cipher, use of th' elements, the sev'n great 
wonders, the seven planets, with manie of th' vertues a 
fair kept recorde sheweth, and vices soe black that never 
could an angell see one, but its eie' would fill t' overflow- 
ing, also a long and well arrang'd table of such things as 
are dayly used and familiar to all, beter keepeth my plans 
from jeopardie then the strong guard of our king doth his 
sacred person. 

All this must bee found, before you can apply your- 
solfe easilie unto this goodlie work of mine, that I wish 
you to do at once. If it may at th' first seem of little 
real value, the value of a correct story (ill as it may make 
one most exalted person come out, aye most false, on evill 
trulie gloating), soone will be apparent. 

You are to get eleven old plaies, publisht in th' name 
I have us'd lately at th' theatre, and many much valued 



IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 39 

by scenick Caesars who conquer, ever, a lack created on 
our stage — from th' withdrawing of some lame and halt 
plays t' embark again in new forme t' aide my projects — 
by compelling th' production of others. And therein you 
will finde th' beginning of many stories, both i' dramati- 
call forme (also in that raw unfinished forme) and in lam- 
bick verse. But the haste with which some parts were 
compleated, will explaine this. When these plays may 
come foorth, for many reasons cannot now be determined, 
but I promise you, it shall be soone. ''Wisely and slow," 
is a proverb ofte on my lips, and as oft unheeded, even by 
myselfe, also. But an axe that cutteth well must be well 
sharpened — then it doth become us all to looke well to 
our instruments: 

For you must cut apart my various bookes. 

Spreading them out upon a mark'd scrutoire. 

Which, as th' chart or mappe th' sailor hath 

Doth pointe out everie countrey of th' world, 

In faire, clear lines, this great expanse doth name. 

So faire and beauteous th' bound I set. 

Though 'tis at riske o' this secret designe. 

Then separate each part, to joyne againe 

According as your guide hereby discloseth, 

In riche mosaickes, wondrous to behold. 

To bee admir'd by all the sonnes of men. 

Heere is a crowne, gemme-starred, and golden scepter, 

A crosse and ball — insignia of ranke, 

Even of royalty, soe pure and high 

1^0 blur is on it, but like to frost flowers, 

Januarie's blossoms icie white. 

It gleameth i' th' light of cache faire morne. 



40 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Oh let not man forget these words divine: 
"Inscrutable do hearts of kings remaine." 
If he remark a pensive (dying fall) 
In th' musicke of these straines, let him forbear 
To question of its meaning. List again, — 
As hath been, is, and evermore shall bee — 
Ages retarde your flight and turn to hear — 
Cor regis inscrutah'de. Amen. 
Yet 'tis the glorie of our Heavenlie King 
To shroud in mystery His works divine, 
And to kings mundane ever shall redound 
In greatest compasse glory to th' names 
0' such as seeke out Xature's misteries; 
Fortune may aid him; Honor may attend; 
Truth waite upon him; as we look, crampt Art 
Doth reach forth to faire light, undreamt of lore; 
While Reputation soundeth through th' world 
Unto Time's close, glory in [highest] measure, 
To him that to th' depths doth search wide Seas, 
Digge deepe into th' Earth, unto th' Aire 
And region of th' Fire climbc fearlessly. 
Till he th' World, the Heavens and e'en th' Uni- 
verse, — 
With human eyes that better can discern 
Then mountaine eagle, gazing at th' sunne, — 
Doth finde out secrets hid fro' humankind 
Since th' foundations of th' earth were laid, 
Stampt with the impresse of the Heavenlie Hand ; 
And in grave musick deepe to deepe did call. 
While morning starres together sang a hymn 

Time lendeth to Eternity for aye. 

Fr. B. 



MARLOWE. 



EDWARD THE SECOND. 



You will find here that sad, sad, sad tale o' my brother 
Essex which runs darkling thro' my plaie, the secret th' 
books contain, the most comon themes in any or all lan- 
gwages, polish'd WTitings in everie stile named in any Rhe- 
tor'cke, not sparing sundry dearly lov'd poets, but so mak- 
ing over my erly college songs of ancie't world lore (of th' 
hero's fam'd still through Homer et. al.) that no part is 
lost. Much, however, as I say, shal assert things such as 
will be recorded in no place wliich might be subject t' the 
scrutinie o' enimie or of friend. Many of the hidden plays 
have no other object I assure you. 

Any writi'gs o' my penne, be they in mine owne name 
or in that of my friend, is the work o' th' hand you have 
so long knowne as untiring — of the same restless minde 
and spirit. ]^ow hunt out our hidden epistle for it doth 
foile tiresome friends; foes who, most constantly watchi'g 
(ever closely bent o' use o' some kind or sort of secret) win 
th' starte yet lose th' scent; and thus do curious men, try 
however they may in Aveake attempts at resistance, wander 
in mirie waies, and I followe this busines and this play, if 
recreative labours may be stil'd plaie. Many days pass in 
th' work that is here given. Oft more of the dayes then 
may justlie be used in such a way. This is principall in 
favour (since none but my owne selfe doth know of its 
appearance), to furder my object and to avoid ev'n th' 
slight suspicion of persons reading my plai's. 



42 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

A booke is as an iiriAvrought lump of metall: you see 
not th' rich shine of it beneath sundry thin coates that 
obscure it. The same is true of everything herein. Study 
my signes, learn to read my numerous small Cyphers for 
their designe was to make the worke easy. Doc this as 
directed untill the whole is understoo' soe well no great 
difficulty will bee found in th' deciphering. 

You next join Lear to this, a history of Henrie th' 
Sevent, Th' Life and Death of King John, and Burton's 
great prose, (not the best I have so given another man, but 
better for work of various parts then plaies) those which I 
name Peele on th' stage, or that Arraignment I have men- 
tion'd, th' David, one of my oldest books put out in a time 
when we minded onelie our achiev'mente — th' result of 
our long study. 

Time now doth unveil many things ungues'd or un- 
dream'd of by any. To do away with mistery we set forth 
a large work De Augmentis S. — now translated, to shut th' 
casket, but if th' keys to it should now be sunk, th' story 
it contains (our twelft king's nativity since our sovereign, 
whose tragedy we relate in this way,) shall now know the 
day, nor shall the Latine hide, nor our disguises, many 
and valew'd as they be, keep my story from th' eyes of the 
curious searchers in a new mine. Such a prize hath my 
book to give the student of the work whose entry is farre 
in the vantguard; the armies rereward may lose th' glory 
of it all. 



SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 

*you will either iinde the guides or be lost in the 

labyrinth. Every one of my great dramaticall writings, 

severall other workes — my New Organ, the second part 

of my Instauration, my New Atlantis, (some parts of 

which I much desire you to write from my philosophical! 

papers) and the part of the Sylva Sylvarum (a Naturall 

Historic that I designe to leave as it is), my Historic of 

Henry the Sevent, as well as my workes of science, 

containe in the last ten pages of the papers, rules that 

tell how to work out the great word Cipher. Keep at 

work. 

Fr. St. ALBAN. 

*Any person using here the bi-literall Cipher, will find 
a rule to be followed when writing the hidden letters in 
which are Histories, Comedies, Tragedies; a Pastorall of 
the Christ; Homer's epics and that of Virgil, which are 
fully render'd in English poetry; the completion of my 
New Atlantis; Greene's Life; Story of Marlowe; the two 
secret epistles (expressely teaching a Cipher now for the 
first time submitted, doubtfully, for examination and 
studie, by any who may be sufficiently curious, patient, 
or industrious); part of Thyrsis (Virgile's Eclogues); 
Bacchantes, a Fantasie; Queene Elizabeth's Life (as never 
before truely publisht); a Life of the Earl of Essex, and 
my owne. 

Fr. LORD VERULAM. 



♦Heming and Condell. *Ben Jonson. 



44 Bl-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

*Francis of Verulaiii is author of all the plays hereto- 
fore published by Marlowe, Greene, Peele, Shakespeare, 
and of the two-and-twcnty now put out for the first time. 
Some are alter'd to continue his history. 

*Search for keyes, the headings of the Comedies. 

FRANCIS of VERULAM. 

*As I sometimes place rules and directions in other 

Ciphers, you must seeke for the others soone to aide in 

writing. 

Fr. of Ve. 

""Queene Elizabetli is my true mother, and I am the 

lawfull heire to the throne. Finde the Cypher storie my 

bookes containe; it tells great secrets, every one of which 

(if imparted openly) would forfeit my life. 

F. BACON. 

*Francis St. Alban, descended from the mighty heroes 
of Troy, loving and revering these noble ancestors, hid 
in his writings Homer's Illiads and Odyssey (in Cipher), 
with the ^Eneid of the noble Virgil, prince of Latin poets, 
inscribing the letters to Elizabeth, R. 

*Fr. Bacon is the author, unknown among men as such. 
He in this way, and in his Cypher workes, gives full 
directions, in a great many places, for finding and unfold- 
ing of severall weightie secrets, hidden from those who 
would persecute the betrayer, yes, even take a person's 
life. Then take care that he be not endangered by your 
zeal. 

Reade easy lessons first, and forsooth the Absey in the 

Life and Death of King John, act one, is a good one; it 

shewes the entrance to a labyrinth. Court Time, a sure 

leader, and proceed to his Alphabet of i^ature. Leame 

well two portions, Masses, and the Rule. Search this out. 

F. B. 



♦L. Digga. *I. M. ♦Actors" Names. * "atalogup of Plays. 

♦Prologue to Troilus and C'ressida. ♦Headings of Comedies. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 45 

This letter tells you how to produce my most highly 
estimated iiiipiiblish'd labours of to-day, and I beg you 
try to understand it. 

Go as I direct, but iinde each subtile signe, that 
silentlie like fingers, shewes your waye. Actus primus, 
King John, gives th' epistle's first wordes, near the word 
Absey already familiar to you. Join these plays to Fr. 
Bacon's Novum Organum: but other plays must shed their 
light in so wonderous a Cipher: none may be found if my 
work be lost. 

Seek not meerelie to read foure Cyphers, (for you 
should find six in all, which I coppy here, in full, to direct 
students how they should work out my greatest Invention) 
which you shall take as I direct you: — this is first: that 
Clowne in the play who speaks of the plantan leafe, is 
a wise man — here Art outruns that grub l^ature: hunt 
out this Cipher, or anagram, at once: now finde a number 
in my King Henrie the Sevent correspo'ding to this (i. e., 
the same kinde or style), next add the plaies of Twelfe 
Mght or What You Will, and Love's Labour's Lost; you 
will finde here capitalls in two formes, it is your next: the 
face of my clock comes fourth: my symbols are next: 
and the sixt is what all shewes — my great Cipher of 
Ciphers. 

Every letter, save the epics of Virgill and Homer, is 

dedicated to yourselfe. 

Fr. BACON. 

*My reason for using my translated stories to teach 
this Cipher is this: I wish to get my Cypher into 
student's curricula. You should do this worke by my 
rules, and seeke for the keyes in the playes. First finde 

♦Headings of the Histories. 



46 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

the gods Jove, Pluto, Apollo, Vulcan, Minerva, Juno and 
Neptune, but do not omit any ISTymphe: add Greek heroes, 
Bome captives; Dreams; the Sacred Isles; Chryses, Apollo's 
priest; some Trojans; the names of townes in Greece and 
Asia Minor; some parts also of Europe neare the Helles- 
pont and the ^Egaeum: you can now write the first two 
bookes. Thus begin: 

O Goddess, sing of the destructive wrath 
Of fierce Achilles, Peleus' worthy sonne. 

Thus continue in Iambi, with verses similar to the lines 
above, taken from their hiding places in the bookes I have 
published; ill worth Homer's name, less musicall than 
the Greeke, I still thinke it worthy of preservation and a 
measure of honour. Search all places in which I have 
put my keyes. iSTear words like Jovus, Hera, — Syno- 
nymes, as well as all the derivatives from these wordes — 
are the sectiones of the translation. 

Keepe lines, though somewhat be added to Homer: in 
fact, it might be more truely Homeric to consider it a 
poeme of the times, rather than a historic of true events. 
For this good and sufticieut reason, the translation should 
be in the forme of verse. I use English Hcroick verse, 
usually paying but small heede to rime, like as you may 
see in my playes, yet in my other verse, rime being indis- 
pensable, and sometimes, — as in the closing line in each 
stanzo of the epics of the so cal'd E, Spenser, — the feete 
being too numerous, you may do as to you seems to be 
juste and propper. 

In all places, be heedfull of the meaning, but do not 
consider the order of the words in the sentences. I should 
joine my examples and rules together, you will say. So 1 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 47 

will. In the Faerie Queene, booke one, canto two, sec- 
ond and third lines of the seventh stanzo, thus speaking 
of Aurora, write: 

Wearie of aged Tithones saffron bed, 

Had spreade, through dewy ayre her purple robe. 

Or in the eleventh canto, booke two, five-and-thirtieth 
stanzo, arrange the matter thus, to relate in verse the great 
attacke at the ships, at that pointe of time at which the 
great Trojan took up a weighty missile, the gods giving 
strength to the hero's arme: it begins in the sixt verse: 

There lay thereby an huge greate stone, which stood 
Upon one end, and had not many a day 
Removed beene — a signe of sundrie wayes — 
This Hector snatch'd, and with exceeding sway .... 

It is an ensample, and the instructions are so cleare, I do 
not think you can follow scent so well as a hound, if you 
unkennell not the fox. 

Seeke the keyes untiU all bee found. Turne Time into 
an ever present, faithfull companion, friend, guide, light, 
and way. For he who seeks an entrance here, must be 
furnished in that manner aforesaid. All my names I use 
as my fingers, to shewe which worke to join by means of 
the signes, which you so ofte' have seen in divers of my 
other workes. I am secretlie enscheduling worthie guides, 
which shew the path, and keyes this lock to turne. 

Now match to these, when you hunt them out, all 
Grseco-English wordes, i. e., wordes that are not yet com- 
pleatlie made English. Keepe my rules so carefully im- 
pressed upon your mind in all cases, that you bee not ledd 
aside; for one who taketh the right waye, if he will push 



48 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

on, will win the goale, the lawrell garland, and the ap- 
plause and praises of the multitude: do not, therefore, 
turne your stops to the left, nor to the right, nor trace the 
roade baekAvard. Keepe your eies ever iixt on the goal, 
and presse onward as I bid. I will make it a delightsome 
way, trust me, aye, ev'n as the milk-white path of high 
Jove on blew Olympus' summit. 

Pursue, with caution, every devious way, never forget- 
ting to retire back, before the chief highwaye be lost to 
sight. It is by such means that events, (and many a fabu- 
lous deede of the gods and heroes) remotelie appertinent 
to the Iliads are related, while you this winding labyrinthe 

trace out. 

PR. B. 

*You are now come to the Catalogiie. It cannot be done 
as you have in the previous story of not too unusual actions 
and events. It is divided into small parts, as you will 
observe, which are so widely scatter'd in my writings, you 
should keepe my most common nile alway in this work; 
also keepe the order of the (rreek in your translation. 

F. B. 

To these keyes now add Strife, Ten-or, Fortitude, Pur- 
suit, Din, Friendship; the ^Egis; the remainder of th' 
Olympian gods; the Kiver gods; the Simois also the Sca- 
mander; with the many heralds, Sleep, Iris, also Mercury; 
Death and the Fates, all clouds, Chimseras, winds. Day, 
Night, and SAveete Aurora; the Hours, who open Jove's 
gates; besides the Muses, Graces (who wait upon Venus, or 
attend on the fire-robed Sun-deity), and Furies, lightning, 
thunder; Juno's birds, Venus' doves, Jove's eagle; Cen- 

*Headings of the Tragedies. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 49 

taurs, steeds, chariots, lions, serpents, with many other 
words which you ought also to keepe near bye in readinesse 
for use. 

Dub yourself as Knight of the Golden lies, and set out 
in quest of great deeds, grande triumphs, and Fortune's 
golden meede: your Honour will grow in lustre as you 
show forth the brightness of your ISTature; so also shall 
your Reputation be as jewels, and your Truth as precious 
stones, which Art has made of exceeding worthe, beautie, 
delightsomeness and estimation, and Time harmeth not. 

You will now find some wordes with a key, that tell the 
manner of joining parts. All workes do not give rules, as 
in most of my playes; but my poemes, plays, portions of 
prose, and of the numerous Latin and Greeke translations, 
also the stanzas of Italian Iambi are composed so well that 
you could not, if you would, go astray. When the partes 
are separated, put all matter of like kinde together in 
boxes, which have been so marked with keies and joining- 
wordes that you may follow the plans with ease, not care'- 
full for the outcome, piuce I am Architect, you the Master- 
builder: yours is the hand that shall erect the temple, 
when you shall bring to a selected place the fairest stones 
which you can finde, and cedar-wood hewed and shaped, 
so that you could raise towards heaven my Solomon's Pal- 
lace, and nowhere be heard either ax, or hammer, or any 
instrument of iron, as you put them in place. How won- 

derfull its beautie, no mortall eye hath seen. 

Fr. St. ALiBAN. 

*As apt children have their dailie taskes, so also in this 
hardest of employes, a dailie burthen is laid on ev'ry hand ; 
houres manie, as free as mortall can desire, are e'er jewels 

♦The Tempest. 



50 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

beyond price; jet, in ihis, an eager rainde can find a dark 
chapter's chiefc motif, by thus most honorably and 
shrewdly using his moments of solitude and ease. 

The Tragedy of Macbeth must be added to this, then 
joine Edward the Second. As these are carefully con'd, 
many of Nature's writing are to be read, and a rule to fit 
or join, now that of one name, now" others, making a story, 
in plays, which shewcs that sin of my despis'd, (yet 
royall and also loyal) friends, Essex, who is my brother, 
and our most lovely parent, Queene Elizabeth ; the tragedie 
of his murther; an historic of my owne life; the storie of 
my share i' th' triall of my brother; my owne downfall, 
with many such. 

Now joine King Lear, King John, Romeo and Juliet, 
sixtie-two lines of The Life of King Henry Eight, partes 
of such other as you need — my rules dissipate all uncer- 
tainty. More prose must stande in this part of your 
Cypher work, then has been used to relate my stories. 

Plays are by no meanes alwaies verse, therefore have I 
put a chain linking together by keies my speaches: those 
in Henry Seventh, are now many lines in excesse; and all, 
or much, upon the claiming Henrie's crowne is to be 
altered. You will finde that historic repeats itselfe in this, 
and that my owne story here given, has much that is simi- 
lar to the claime Warbeck made, yet also diifering, inas- 
much as his had so false premises: but J was Elizabeth's 
son, by her wedded Lord, elder brother to Robert, the 
Earle of Essex, who raised a rebellion to obtaine his owtio 
mother's kingdome, despite all other and prior rights. 

As hunted deer awaite death at every moment, so I, at 
baie, iiad an hourly feare in both my brother's affects, and 
the hate and ill-intents of our mother and Cecil. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 51 

*Wlien you match Macbeth with Tempest, it is to be 
observ'd, in the deciphering, how like is join'd with like^ — 
conspiracie in each. Xote in Tempest the directions, and 
do as I have done. 

You can follow my playes, as true keys, in most com- 
pleate succession, unlocke the closed doors of this secret 
chamber, in which are caskets like to that which Alexan- 
der found, and wherein I hide, like^^dse, mine own bookes, 
as well as honor'd Homer, his verses. 

Search, seeke out a secret, imparted to no living person 
except Mother Bacon, mine earlie friend and true, the 
woman who saved me from my furious, owne mother by 
rare devices. I was as a brat, or waift, the girle throwes 
from all eies to save her fortunes and name. 

Hate is juste, in him who is made prey to th' ills which 
do fall even upon a babe most innocuous, if love is not 
waking as he sleeps. Even then w^as I taken forth, stript 
naked, — th' thinn soft bands a childe should feele, a rough- 
spun woolen robe replaced. ISTone saw or pitied my harsh, 
unkinde, accursedly cruel usage; yet my mother was a 
wedded, honorable, and most royall woman: her will is 
then the single bar between F. Saint Alban and a sceptre. 
Take this play, and to it match that of Marlowe, i. e., 
Edward the Second. Xote a hidden lesson in Marlowe's 
multi — or rather double — form tipe, for it tells when other 
plays take forward my work. 

In my worthy mind is a better, a broader, a more farr- 
renowned and farre-famous'd kingdom. Deny the imposed 
gift we truely would, in hot anger, but love is so great a 
requitall of wrong, the anger in the humane heart is seen 
a fire-eyed Eurie's child, turned from a region of Nox and 

■•■Macbeth, 



53 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

her compeeres, and then we controule our passio's. My 

love for Marguerite was the spirit which saved my soul 

fvoni hatred, and fro vilde passio's. 

F. B. 

^Search this for a more awefulJ act then all modern, 
middle, and most farre-off o' all farre-distante times has 
revealed. It tells that sad, awefull story of an act which 
will poison my morning-sunrise, simsett, the evening soft- 
nes, nightes darke heavie houres, and make the world hit- 
ter to the end: it is my brother's cruel, foull ending. 

Studie Time's rule: kin is set by kin, like is joyn'd to 
hke. Recall to minde the play which matcht to this, will 
compleate the scene of torture — King John. When this 
is done, a most sad, heavie story, in form o' a play, is told. 
Re dilligent therefore, and give heede. Attempt by all 
odds, worke purposed for proud R. Cecill's record, to cast 
his woven and treacherous plots into view. 

Use every wind to fill your great sails, hanging now so 
empty. Idle no morn's golden houres away, nor even, nor 
night lighted by moones pallid and soft beanies; sail on, 
and fetch treasures Time ^vill make more and richer. Moth 
can ruin th' royall vestments — the glitt'ring crowne rust 
may corrode — no such action ere shall harme my gems' 
golden, art-enchas'd rigoll. 

Next you must write a simple history or story of those 
two men, mth more of their subtle actes apparent. They 
were my worst, aye, my onely foes. Read of some overt 
insolence, acts so wicked, such violent deeds, I had a just 
fear, if imployed doing that [which] Fate (or whatsoever 
power driving me) causes me to do, my enemie construed 
to come from my primary resorte, a predominant desire to 

♦King Lear. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. ^3 

be endued with a royalty-robe, as a mark imprest to set the 
seal upon my rights, by virtue of my birth. Upon every 
occasion they were mindfull of my where'bouts. I 
coulde finde the path to Olympus, however, wing waie with 
Muse t' sing high paeons, farre from the munnur of their 
envy and spite. 

Their power I did evade. This duty so munified a 
brain, a heart, farre remote and seeking to reach the deep- 
est depths of knovvdedge, that I followe my main worke. 
Attempts fail which a tireless enemy doth so tunie — hate's 
minister of harm most truely doth good, not ill, to my 
sundrie* devices and designs. 

It must now bee left in this forme, for a trite, though 
true, simple story, may not be used t' form this kind of a 
play, and I have arranged it in plain prose, but I hope you 
will gain knowledge thereby. If this part be read, it 
makes my method of word-signes clear, and anie carefull 
painstaker who doth inquire here, "will undoe my mistery. 

I have many single //?;r<?A- prepar'd for my deare Mar- 
guerite; one is in these other historicall playes, and in the 
play, Jas. Fourth, of R. Greene. It is her own true love 
story in the French, and I have placed many a cherish'd 
secret in the little loving wortheless books: they were kept 
for her wishes to finde some lovelie reader in future 
.Fones. A part of the one I place in my owixe historie, 
lives so pure no amorous soilure taints the faire pages. 

So fair was she, no eyes ere look'd upon such a beau- 
teous mortall, and I saw no other. I saw her — French 
Eve to their wondrous paradise — as if no being, no one in 
all high heav'n's wide realm, save onlie this one Mar- 
guerite, did ever exist, or in this nether world, ever, in all 

♦King John. 



54 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

tlio ages \o 1)0 in the infinity of time, might V)e created. 
But there came in days, close in the reare, when I would 
fain have lived my honor'd days in this loving-wise, ruin 
worthy husband's hopes, and manic a vision, had there bin 
onlye one single Adam therein, — which should be, and 
was not, solely myselfe. 

Join Romeo with Troy's famous Cressida, if you wish 
to know my story. Cressida in this play, with -Inliet, — ■■■ 
both that one in the Comedy, where she first doth enter 
as Claudio's lady, and the one of my Tragedy just given, — 
are my love, whose minde changed much like a fickle 
dame's. 

Years do nere pay his sin's paine-boughten bond in 
man, or take paine from the remembrance ever keene with 
the ignomy which this fickle ladie put upon dumbe, blind, 
deafe, unthinking and unsuspicious lovers. 

This is tolde plainly in my story. Ever kind, true in 
houre o' neede as in that of pleasure, I suffer'd most cruell 
torments in mind. Thus Trojan Cresid', Troylus did en- 
snare, and the words his sadd soule speaks do say to you 
that his ill-successe, and that I did have, will here be told, 
such oneness was in his sorrowfull hap and mine. This 
makes the next parte. 

Often mid a waste appeare many purest water-rises, f, 
found a pure cup which nature's prettiest dales do form, 
filled to its brim as with Nepenthe: this I drank, and so in 
time I did shuffle off my old av/oiir. Study in this wide 
realm tells many usefull truths: Time reveals matter long 
held in darkncsse amid this very frank gift, an inheritance 
which is farre greater than manie a wide realme of earthlie 
power. 



*Romeo and Juliet 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 55 

These plays eontain my early history. Conjoine the 
part of my other great plaie named when I gave you this 
taske, Julius Csesar, Henry the Eight, Fift and Fourth, 
just as I put them here, i. e., in this order, to make the 
plays, whereof events of such importancy, and of so great 
accompte do make up the plots, my best Cipher was given 
to a revelation of them, — I, [''ay"] events so false, set 
down in writing by my wicked mother, that none have 
wills so strong as to finde out the state of any kind of illes 
which is laid by for the good opportunitie. The oppor- 
tunities are at this Queene's orders, therefore not seene, if 
it so gratifie Elizabeth. 

l!^eretheless my labour must bring villainie unto just 
punition, give the full name of the one who is heir appar- 
ent * to this kingdom, put to rightes the most important 
records of these lands, with much hard bought truth, and 
turne from the lees, or rack a flagon of a red wine, the 
which, running cold, sendes icie chilles into my soule; ay, 
crudled blood this wine proves, if you see the cuppe run- 
ning ore in that soft white hand, and 'tis as from this life 
of my veines, indeed. 

And truly you shall not thinke or intimate to men, that 
the life of my onely born brother could be more dear to 
some rufian officer, or rugg^headed wdld Irishman than to 
my my heart: but man has at all times a love still larger 
for's own life; e. g. in God's owne book you do find many 
such a Scripture, ^^ou may thus see man's heart loveth the 
life here better — vaine as it is — ene then eternitie'J^ and if 
I did prize life as do most men, it may scarce be deemed a 
wante of courage and of honour. 

When you have found the larger story hidden in my 
workes, you may see many things in an unnoted and yet 



56 Bl-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

not unnatiirall relation. Join Othello, and Life of Richard 
Second: then Anthony and Cleopatra, Cymbeline, Hamlet, 
Richard the Third, Timon, and Edward First, placins: the 
same in this order. 

A great quarto in which yon will finde Richard the 
Second, has none of my letter or epistolic story in the 
titles: also a part of a Cipher play, with this most heavie 
tragedie, and a full just accompt therein of all the secret 
reasons which conduc'd to it, is wanting; but my Folio has 
no part omitted, and the Cypher is in many of later date 
than Essex' crudest torture, for the true rend'ring of his 
history. You must put your time on the same, lest these 
more valued workes receive a lesse share of a worke-howr 
than manie stories that were meere tales for boys, put 
beside the plaie that I here name A Tragicall-History, 
since the story is that of Essex, in his dark end. 

Kings must have some happy guard as firm of heart, 
and ene so strongly furnisht forth to war, j'ust, turney, or 
other kind of battel as ancient Alexander, his picked 
guards. Failing of his helpers, that would-bee king was 
held for trial for treaso', co'demn'd, made to tell his ambi- 
tious designes, tortured, — for in the prison, vilde men, his 
keepers, by arts more pitichie-hucd than hell, having ob- 
tain'd a permittance to cause paine sufficiente to burst the 
scale upon the lipps of maddened Essex, with burning irons 
\n\t out both lovelie eyes, — then coldly executed. 

No tale of ages before our blessed Saviour suffer'd such 
death, has one halfe the woe of this. Ev'n the barbarians 
of anio age, would burn men to cinders lesse murth'rously. 

God! forgiveness cometh fro' Thee. Shut not this 
truest book, my God ; shut out my past — love's little sunny 

*Troilus and Cressida. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 57 

hour, if itsoe plea'^p Tliee, and some of man's worthy work, 
vet Essex's tragedy liere phew forth: tlien posterity shall 
know him truly. 

Read well your many rules which shall tend to a speedie 
accrument of matter, to be correctly oppos'd to seyerall 
simple signes or marks. In these subtile waies I shew 
when many plaies are to supplie the matter, and also whe' 
a few will tell much. The most of my keys are words 
like some portion of the play, such as dead, death, dye, or 
dying, kill and murth'rous torture when the scene of mur- 
ther is work'd. The "'first were what I most use, if I speak 
of mine only bom brother Essex, such common words that 
few suspect my volumes had simply hidden the chiefe of 
the untold story. 

Your keies must shew you how I, by this new method 
use my invention. Sure boundes are thus set, or traces 
showing them. 

As in your lists you compleatly subdue by skill, so must 
other sundry hot [contests] be out-fought, but no true 
pow'r should impropriate moe then is just. True you do 
look most calmly upon my loss from a safe distance, yet to 
me the injurie never can be repaired. 

You will finde them in most every other work I have 
used. This may not apply in date, or events, I grant. It 
gives most publickly such, as all other, ladies whom Queene 
E — used in Essex' undoing; his well-seen youths with stur- 
dieness like to the men's, wreaking 'pon all their pitiless 
vengeance with many a warm hand steep'd as in wine, so 
red in crimson gore. 

It did behoove me to be wary, yet for my Prince Robert 
I took desperate hurts. As the danger many hundred 

♦Julius Caesar. 



58 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

times verified fear of our old compeeres, with an angry 
heart, I ofte saw Essex summon in minio's to sit in halles 
(^f judgement, in whose hands his very life was in peril. 
He would turne from the wisest wordes of hundreds, ruled 
by the hardy sons England so lov'd. 

Losses unthought of, hostes of hamperers where he had 
put boldest confidence that most loyall helpers would sus- 
tai' him, with his hasty measures, much weaker troopes, 
as wel as a most utter want of anie true, indubitate rem- 
nant of every king's whole right, i. e., simple honor, I 
know, were the controulers which made his fate certaine. 

You will need but my easily learned keies to follow any 
lost thrids i' the plays, — the Life of Essex in the form of 
prose, two stage-plays, and a story that has a part of his 
worst factionall effort's failure, — many that I name in an 
unpublished story; some you will find in a play out of 
print. I published it in Poole's workes. The earliest 
plays that had my brother's first youth as the times, and 
the many though not so rare (so early), unpublisht yet in 
any forme except that, name Greene as the author. This 
is but my author-name t' hide '■' my owne. It serveth also 
as a guard, as none such will be lost in future ages. 

You will finde more o' history in such works, but much 
of Homer's great poem. It more chiefly makes up my 
delightsome Hiren the Faire Greeke, — a stage-play I pub- 
lished in Peele's name, — and also my Dido, my tragedy of 
Titus, many poems, A Tale of Troy, Venus and Adonis, 
Jonson's Masks, and much of Marlowe's translation of 
Lucan, of Hero and Leander, and the Faerie-Queene, 
Sheapherd's Calendar — which now bear only Spenser's 
marks — Ovid's Elegies, and also the Kape of Lucreece, all 

_„__^_ the Eighth. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 59 

Greene's wanton verses — tliOvse niixt poem-prose stori's, wit- 
tilie having for onr purpose Achilles or others as heroes — 
especially Pandosto, Arraignment o' Paris, (the one last 
named was pnblished as Peele's play), Menaphon, Orlando 
Furioso, Marlowe's Tamlnirlaine, Dr. Faustns, mth Troy- 
lus, (the story of his life — except as yon have it given yon 
as a part of some passage in th' sorry story of mine earlie 
fond love for rare Eve, French Eve, first, worst, loveliest 
upon the face o' this earth, th' beauteous Margaret — and 
his chief exploits i' th' battailes outside the walls o' Troy) 
King of Arragon, King Henry th' Sixt, Battail of Alcazar: 
Spenser's, as Shakespear's, num'rous love poems of many 
kinds, sonnets, and so forth, that shower my Margaret as 
with water of Castaly, are also part of the Iliads and 
Odyssey. 

My translations are many times emploied twice. If 
my love poems may but show this, you will understa'd. 
In the Cypher story, inside-plays, my hidden book mask'd 
in its sentences oftentimes a play, or story, divided more, 
that it may forme the inmost of my secret epistles. 

Of course we must not suppose our Latin work to re- 
move our other Cyphers away from sharpe inquisition, but 
while this remaines undiscover'd my secret is quite exempt 
from suspect. 

My first importa't letter to you concerns my greatest 
invention of a meanes of transmitting whatsoever I -svish to 
share. 

My story may be found in this way after I am dead; 
then must my name live among men cleared from all sorts 
of blot, or imputation o' -wrong advice to Queene Eliza- 
beth i' th' triall of Robert, the Earle of Essex, for treason. 
A Queene has many to ayde, if th' case require, but a sud- 



60 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

den justice pursues a subject that taketli any liberty in 
matters of state. When the offence is from her true sonne, 
building- mighty hopes upon the overthrowe of the power 
of our Queene — not makeing the sinfulness lesse, rather 
gi'eater — his punishment most naturally is greater. It is 
justice, yet how it doth blow my heart. 

At men's many harsh insinuations or open obloquy, my 
indignation swell'd till my heart was too great. iSTative 
pride would cause one to seeke a means of shewing the true 
state of matters for justification: true he is onely actuated * 
by his worse growth of motives, but the facte is irrefute- 
able — a most simple and naturall desire for just and worthy 
men to give him full dues. 

Most, (or at times, truth to say, all) seeke for true 
respect; the most of us insure this, no doubt, by our lives; 
but occasion, that ariseth when least looked for, may mar 
fairest prospects most suddenly. An unexpected event 
may blast his future with sorrow. 

Sole accomptant must I be hereafter for the share I had 
in my brother's sorry fate, but none here will fully acquit 
nie, and so my worthiest opponents have many notable 
advantages. 

Injury to an innocuous man who is milde in nature, 
must be harder punishment (I am assured in heart it must 
be so) then to the man of iron nerves and hardy tempera- 
ture. I am no soldi'r, but not a coward either. I am u 
student, a philosopher, I may say a savant, and I am sen- 
sible of injuries. In so farr as this is unjust, I hereby 
demande true and rightful examination by any man that 
doth regard my brother's case and his sentence as greatly 
altered by my counsell, and reporteth this same everj'- 

♦Henry the Fifth. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 61 

where. Let my plea be heard and just judgement be ren- 
dered. I will aske but this, "Aye, strike but liste to me," 
and marke how love is alwaies manifested in our enter^ 
course at all the times of meeting in prison, many of my 
written protestes and entreaties to Essex to turn him aside, 
intending meerely his onely good, the safety of his own 
person. 

When trust is proved falsely grounded, much of hope 
droops upon its stalk like a summer's flow'r. Thus Essex 
did fare. O, thinke what such a sorrowe was, such puis- 
sant grief, dismaie and uttermoste despaire! 

Whenere this story in Cipher doth push ope th' sepul- 
ture door, strip the clothes and napkins which would con- 
fine it from offe its feet, and so stepp out among living 
human beings, my inmost heart must be reveal'd, open as 
upon God's great day of a last judgment. Make your 
work as the voyce that shall commande it to rise, stand 
forth, and tell to mankinde its secret woe. 

I use words to indicate the part of my life in France, 
using the keyes as just given with but a few added, such as 
Paris, France, court, Charles, Henry. Joyne minde or 
braine (with the*f acuities), also spirit, soule, the conscience 
with heart, and the other words signifying affection, love, 
hate, envie, antipathy and like passio's. In example o' 
it turne t' Cymbeline, actus primus, scena secunda, by 
(Queene) see (Love) (Heart) both by the key-words nam'd 
in my latest list, thus setting off to another use each of the 
sections so shewne. So ever Marlow, Peele, Greene, or 
aniething which doth containe the storie of the stay in 
Margaret's sunshinie France. 

Assorte out into drawers and boxes that so they may 

*Henry the Fourth, Part I. 



62 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

bee convenient to jour hand, on the one hand putting all 
o' the earlier history keies, on the other th' double-keyes 
of the later part. Never cease i' the pursuite until the 
worke be ended. So may most precious writings of my 
owne brother's be read, as I did include a part of his his- 
tory o' th' Armada from Spaine. It is that part where 
Palmer doth pursew (all that nioht, indeede, after brave 
action) in the rear o' the flying spirit-like sails o' the Span- 
ish vessels. Every line was Avritten ere those bragging 
Jackes arrived at the harbours from which they had sailed 
a few months before. 

Making your next portion of worke the Armada from 
Spaine, it may soone be scene a number o' keies must now 
have attentio', and many be joined to them. 

Mary did enjoyne upon Phillip such a course, and, as 
in many cases, the subjects did have greater love and more 
devotion to the Head of their Church then truth and loy- 
alty to eyther country or Queene, there was somewhat o' 
confidence wanting as rumours o' the Armada reached the 
farre-away seamen. AVhen they put out, many hundred 
Englishmen, of whatever communion, rose in defense. The 
love o' home is a stronger affection, in some doughtie ser- 
vants of tlie Pope, and of England, then the love of things 
which pertain chiefly to that religion of which much is 
rumoured but much lesse knowne. 

I shall not make much of this subject then, when writ- 
ing, as ev'n moe zealous and blinded servants of the Churcli 
o' the old religion, rous'd \vith fury, did run to fight inso- 
lent Spaine, to protect life and home, then came t' ayde 
(summon'd to assist by the Pope's comma'd) — indeed few- 
made anie sigiie to manifest their allegiance to ought but 
England. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 63 

In our Second Henrie Fourth, you will finde keyes that 
ope most heavie doors, if you seek * dilligently. These are 
words, and you neere would wish any other subtile marke, 
so plain doe all keies sliewe the designe. To these you 
conjoyne divers wordes which stand a fewe spaces from 
the keyes — and are so well chosen that though oft used, 
my plans are thereby not seene — and marke that which 
doth shewe the portions which must be built up like the 
stone walles o' a castle. But the workes, when you shal 
have finished them must reveale a strength shielding 
beautie. 

Make this booke a great story of a stirring, fierie-tem- 
pered man, who fought brave battels for Elizabeth, not 
meerely in this warre with Spaine that you are now to 
write out, but in severall which I do give in full in my 
history. 

No enemy doth so doughtily throw downe his bold 
defiant challenge as Philip, tnie sonne of Spaine; none 
takes up that glove with greater ease or with more won- 
derous skill then Elizab'th. She it is that we shall throw 
light upon now, for writing at a time of so much danger 
the penne was mild. Men in such bold history whom I 
thrust most to your presence, may neede have some time 
to plead for mercy at God's high throne, when their many 
crimes, hired to be performed, are unveiled. 

Sin oft strongly warres in th' mind, and if no murther- 
ous act be done, bears wrong much yoked with humil'ty, 
but if crime be on a person's hands, manie a rout o' jeeri'g 
divels come into his soule o' which the worst is pride. So 
fared Her Ma., Queene Elizabeth. 

Her whole spirit was but one infernall * region, a realm 

•Henry the Fourth, Part II. *OtheHo. 



64 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

o' Pluto, untold days i' her times of mirth, or times of staid 
and verie gi'ave deportment; for the blood of her youngest 
borne was upon her royall hand, if not that of manie 
others, heirs to a future o' paine. I' sooth none can div'lge 
her greatest harmes, for this world's eyes have no worthy 
use, but all shunn tlu- vision o' shame, especially in this 
Queene, Her vanity may seeme most veniall even, but 
vaine motives lay at the bottome o' everything which this 
woman did. 

She was my mother, yet I more then anie other have 
cause to curse her. T answer here a few of the world's 
accusations. I, after insult above your just conceit, I open 
my hard lips for my first lengthy complaint, uttering here 
much of the gall and naturall wrath my burdened heart 
has carried many a yeere. Have patience, I prithee, my 
worthy friend, and continue your writing, untill my his- 
tory at least has been co'pleatlie finished; then if it must 
bee left, it must bee, yet do you keep in mind one thing — 
it is this — now must we see the glancing of Fortune's light, 
to th' desire of my unsubmiss soule; some will be pleas'd, 
I doubt not, to yeeld. 

If your pen lia-se no glory, it, indeed, is l\y some short- 
coming of your owne, for I have prepared the way to for- 
tune and high favo'. You may be my voyce to utte' the 
words I would fain speak, yet, should you refuse, another 
browe will winn the rigoll. 

If hate's venom leave a soulc doom'd, no ray does light 
mine awefull tombe, no sun sweetly ilume th' waye. 

With Thee is hope, forgiveness, peace, O God, Father 
of light, and Author of our being. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 65 

Pilate said, when hee had framed a title for the King 
of the Jews, "What I have written, I have written." Thus 
must my work of this nature be left as it is, and that which 
is my onely honor may put vastly more happinesse upon 
us. No men's heirs of empty honours do outvie my right 
witty and much valued friend, th' man who raveled these 
threads. I burthen one, who to do my old friend of truth 
and much constancy, justice, must not be of our time, and 
my wish is that my whole workes should bee for you' good. 

By my tones I shewe first various waies to direct the eie 
to any portions o' the Cypher. Truth to say th' winds 
change lesse in the dale then doth th' guiding hand. I 
took for mine instru'tion the signs o' some forme that is 
helde worthy but use no such important marks, except 
th' dot, to shew w^hen our shifts should be furder. You 
then turn to my guide word, finde by your small table 
which o' th' numerous works is indicated: next seeke the 
word-keye and ^^Tite what you * there finde. 

Each of the stories thus made to relate a part that is 
but half made out — for this slower wave we employ doth 
concern my others — but when it has all ben work'd out, 
my method will be thought marvellous. It manie times 
is given with fear of faile, warring i' the spirit with fear 
of a worse result. 

Too clear meanes were not of acc't, for th' restlesse eyes 
o' foes watched my worke, to finde a thread to twiste into 
the loop of th' executio'r; too dense, concealed noe less th' 
much valew'd guiding hand which ledd to the Cypher. 
Sundry words shewe my works as scene in my Instauratio; 
severall more have anothe' name to marke them as well, as 
you will see, very exceptionall, or rather, I may say, quite 

♦Richard the Second. 



66 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

originall and uneqiialed use. I make them to shut out all 
but this faithfull decipherer, for the instrue'ions, rules, and 
.so forth, are widelie scattered. I do not give sufficient in 
any one of these plaves to l)ewray my Cipher, but he who 
hath turn'd aside for no fleet footed Siren or Nymphe, 
will enter into a richer store of goldene treasure even then 
he has dre'nit of, for T lead his eager steps. Hence T say 
again to you, do you keep pressing on for a day shall 
come that shall bring its dues of joy. Life is but one 
sh'rt race ; it doth not twice reward us. 

It is well to know a crown can one o' these good days 
be put on — an imortall crowne that ruste shall do no ill, 
nor evill men deny to such as do inherite it, or wanne in 
any sorte of strife of th' poets — authors with brother au- 
thors. It awaits one whom Time maketh Truth's expos'tor, 
for he who may unseen, — though himself simply serving 
a knowme, * T may say an honour'd man, — ^vrite and pub- 
lish the secrets I do thus conceale, may have more glory, 
more fame, even then he hath who taketh a city. 

Whatsoever of honour, of fame, or glory my work hath, 
th' great reward giv'n unto him, — my friend, (my truthfuU 
minde now open'd fully to it would make avowall) of 
equall braine, hand and heart, as is plainly indicated by his 
ability to search out my story, — must bee even greater. 
This then shall crowne your head: it can fal to no other 
even after wo have turned t' clay, for you must be first 
Avhoever Time bringeth afte' you. 

A man's achievements truely do out-live man, or his 
love or hate, bitter as the one nuiy be and sweet th' other. 
The long silence will not lie eternall ages on the tongue, 
but in his writing.'^ is a now life. Mind this amidst all 
discourageme'ts. 

♦Anthony and Cleopatra. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 67 

Time shall reward our patience if we do triilie well, and 
await the daye; if our worke be ill, the yeeres will pointe 
the finge' of scorn at us. I would be no object of such 
attention, yet do I seeke the noting eies of posterity and 
write for men not living on th' face o' earth. Th' ^ons 
that are to be, doe not so rudely plunge men o' mark'd 
eminence into old-time idole night, at least not in full 
compleat and pe'fecte possession of remarkable pow'rs. 
Thus I put a calme, brave, enduring — ev'n chearfull — 
heart ever in my looks, nor turn my eies fro' a mark in 
Fame's targ't. 

When you have fully collected the keies into such part 
of your working-roome as shall not bee disturbed, begin 
your task by assorteing your keys. You should not use 
more of tliem than I give in th' small table; note also that 
these must not be used as you open'd divers books, with 
noe order, no method, no system, but these are links i' th' 
long chaine. All are giiides t' another part o' the secret 
plays and my many poemes that are hidden in workes of 
any valew, that I have sent out since I invented my first 
small Cypher while I was in Paris in my early youth. 

When one will take the work noe furder, you use others, 
but if you wo'ld keepe keys in th' order of my owne table 
you must finde it of great aide i' th' work. Remember, 
well gleaned keies must vary i' the apparent use. Finde 
some table as above; manie may be seen in your work cer- 
tainlie even now, since you must finde some in each play; 
these are good ayds. If the table changes as I form 
Cypher plays, it is because I sek to avoid confusion. 

My first and sixth Cyphers appear even more in some 
unpublisht poems of my early yeares, and my rules are 
explained therein with such sundry notes, — designed to 



08 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

render aide in the work, as well as to give to book-lovers, 
or cursory readers even, factes relating unto this matter 
hoTidled, — that it was too evident and clear. 

With the kingdome still greater in fact then most, 'tis 
not then bold to dub myself heir to one o' those happily 
plac'd realms ev'n old Neptune's waters keepe from every 
harme and threat of danger. Yet in this work o' my hands 
I am heire-apparent to a much loftier seate, a scepter of 
pow'r that must ev'n extende to posterity. K^or time nor 
death can take my second kingdome from me. But future 
ages shall crowne you king of many more farre-extending. 
The royall scutcheon of your worthy arms shall shine as 
the sunne, fill your mindes eyes with dazzling light and 
glory, turn darkest night to dale and scatter every cloude. 
Each booke truelie doth make the glory greater, but with- 
( >ut my help * you could not hope just or generous attention 
will be given you, for I do compas this end at least. 

Z^o subject which hath a place o' state in the written 
bookes, shall be lost to th' carefull kindlie person that doth 
so finde this secret, and th' story he shall take from this 
Cypher may ever reveale each : the one which is of import- 
ance here doth ch'efly concern him that speaks to you in 
this maner. 

Ko doul)t I will shew manie errours each day. When 
Art's maske is in ruins marke well those features behind 
it; when Nature lifts the veil that conceals th' Fir^t or 
Primal Cause, there shall stande reveal'd one [not] now 
recognized; so then shal Reputation be knownie as it is 
and not as it is thought; Fortime, also Honor and Tiiith, 
shall be seen in Time. 

Tt is your hand which shall make all th' right to be 
knowne, else shall our dust, lying in its tombe unhonour'd 

♦Cymbellne. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 69 

by love and estime such as is given unto other royall 
Princes, feel in its least particle the wrongs that I beare. 

I have placed in many of my latest works the Cypher 
that is to intimate and pointe out some others, while it 
hath so small use in works of length, that I speak of it 
rarely. You find it oft in prose workes: it is symbols, and 
as hath already beene said hath little use if your letter 
be th' length ev'n that hillet doux are ofte made. 

End your list so — more you will not now finde — nor 
at anie time are your more thoroughly culled tables to 
bee left and laid aside, as th' new names are given, but 
all are used. You doubtlesse observe this in numberlesse 
places when writing.* If some o' the words are (as these 
above) but rarely used, it doth even more conceale a 
Cipher mystery. In soe farre as wordes having a double 
use (double Cypher being oft shewne in the same work) 
naturally occurring for names of the writer, could be varied 
and imploied, such have had the chief e place; but, as this 
could not be used in all the plays, do not looke for the 
other epistle if you be onelie a curious seeker. 

Enter upon the queast with zeale, or, at least, in an 
earnest frame of minde. It doth ever assure a good course. 
Finish the portion given here, the' take Cypher number 
six and work out the first letter, as it hath a part of a 
plan that I have carried on in these other Cyphers; but 
for the double use, take its numerous full directions found 
in this place. 

I have oft put the most usefull hints of all in the more 
difiicile plays, i. e., the plays that are made up chieflie 
of fragments. When one Cypher hath part of a rule (the 
rules plac'd in this bi-literall and the Word-Cipher in my 

*Hamlet. 



^0 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

vvorkes, however, forme an exception) others near this one 
have parts of it also. 

The play of Hamlet hath the commencement of a 
Cipher rule of no small interest. One called a Time 
Cypher, because numbers were keyes, .sheweth you th' 
first o' th' directions, the bi-literall, the second, and the 
capitall letter Cypher hath the last. Xo nic)r(' are needed 
for these letters i' th' plays then you shall by this time 
have, or at the most must soon come acrosse, and 1 requeast 
you to finde th' rule concealed, first in Ilenry the Seve'th, 
til en explained in one o' the playes. 

Err not in my worke. Hope quickens to duty: trust 
conquers all: for truth is as the crowne won in th' race. 
'Tis evermore th' part of an eager runner if successe bee 
desired, to keepe on bravely to th' goale, for 'tis unto him 
a crowne is given who doth claime the prize alone, through 
his timely efforts and his perseverance. 

In study hope may in part aide you. Keepe a most 
cautious watchf uU eye on that foe to your worke, ^ love 
of pleasure, and on his sister, idlenesse^) for of their com- 
panionship no good doth come. Take our lampe as youi' 
ouely guide, and stay but to see th' lustrous gem-studded 
sceptre that doth appeare farre to reach, but shall asuredly 
command much that doth lesse please then honor, for 1 
haste on i' fond hope of some othe', better or fuller and 
richer reward. 

The thought which gives t' my weak courage assurance 
of truth's finall triumphe seems feeble, — ev'n to some, 
folly, — ^yet better men oft seeke their fame with as great 
love of th' vaporous breath of worldly plaudits. You but 
imagine that my ordeal would be so much lighte', my 
owne life much better, if to our future we portray as so 



IN SHAKESiPEARE PLAYS. 7l 

much to be desired, a due measure of ease and wealth be 
given. 

Look in former works explaining plans we have fonned 
to ayde our many seekers afte' greatnesse, such as do not 
cower if it be Troy to winn, or Helena's faire face to see: 
gaily they go. So sure is my hero of your ayde, o' due 
zeale in his arduous " undertaking, that we leave him. 

A key t' unlocke will Fortuna now set forth, and his 
turning will ope most lordly portalls. Followe whithe' a 
man's steps mark yon way, as I gave her many a faint 
pursuer as an inception to this quest. Taking each at the 
test you may prove great, and doubly win honor. Worlds, 
yes the univearse, may note our acts and we may open 
every tragedie of our own history, but to mince my woes, 
or vaunt unseemlie wrongs to me, although it may be a 
constant temptation, are both so tnily unjust, so futile, 
that I will no longe' spende man's quickly flitting weeks 
in bemoneing the woes o' my youth. 

I may then to this labour apply both fervour and joy, 
for so shal my loved books take many more o' th' thoughts 
of the tryall yet to be. From livi'g so much in Paris I 
have a truly Fre'ch spirit. Th' love of inquiry so employs 
a mind from morn's wydelie sent e'rly beames to eve's 
final parti'g fro' the earth, — or, truly saying, till tapers 
are burn'd low, — the faire hand o' Science leades to th' 
hightes with so sweet a grace, no man could resist. There- 
for' shall I make studie not alone th' attendant o' every 
day, but, as well, th' bosom friend. ,^tudie doth fill a 
hung'ring minde, while it leaveth behind still greater 
desires to attai' to all heights, and sou'd those wondrous 
seas mortal man hath nere su'mounted or sounded. 



♦Richard the Third. 



72 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRA^fCIS BACON. 

For many earlier lines o' th' play I heere am making 
cleare to my followers i' th' other (or Word-Cipher) that 
()f Ediiard shal be th' next joined after Timon. Th' latter 
hath much later rend'ri'g of events, for not much o' his 
life is contain'd in works of anie extente. Mark your 
keyes, resting not until you slothful shal be found, or 
fluctuating. Since I upon all of these most precious 
books have nere ask'd one word, nor said one to winne 
j)raise to my name, it must bee loste study if left. 

A true love o' my Ciphe' work, old as manie of such 
must be, (indeed I name part of a series, which a more 
industrious man must too oft consider is too meage') is 
one of the best aides, for no work handl'd as mine, what 
woful tale so-e'er it may tell, can be dull. Oft many may 
seeme winnow'd o' just morale essays or sermons, but 
much A\T:'ought and drawn out into plaies, yet is my truest 
labor so full o' dramaticall events with numerous scenicke 
aydes, it may not astonish my deeypherer if I write my 
life as a plaie. If he shall discover this in th' play here 
scene, th' many keys should next be arrang'd or the differ- 
ent scenes were easilie changed. 

This work, like th' followi'g, that will soon be found, 
recpiireth much of carcfull, I, '"' zealous asking at the 
Throne of Life and o' all true AVisedome ere it ma}' be 
undertaken, but none should goe back who have sought 
t' enter at a gate which doth open into an ingenious maze 
not yet folowed halfe waye to our more choice, or th' last 
story of our Court-life.* Observe my consta't timely 
Cipher aides that I have plac'd i' th' most of my play of 
Winter's Tale. You' eye mil note such but by keeping 
vig'lant watch. Manie words round a part of the Cypher 

• *Timon of Athens. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 73 

have use as well. For example, words I intend to be tli' 
rnles to follow and note, for o' all my decipli'rers ayds, 
at first til' best is that of an easily seene guiding word, or 
key which shall be your oft lost but ever readie servant, 
coming if sought and alway directing you i' th' way you 
should go. 

Beare in minde that hee is like Prospero's quicke spirit, 
Ariell, as airy as our owne breath, therefore your eyes 
while sometimes afarre off could espie this one aydante, 
Pan. My plan so wisely useth Pan much more, as may 
quickly be seen, then jSTature, but do not lose eyther one 
of these. With Reputation, Honour, Fortune, Truth and 
th' Art now in hand, you have all that you need at present 
to carry on the work. However, o' th' most o' th' rules, 
keep ever watch. 

Look for my works that hidden truth may upon errour 
throw light. In some of my oldest plays many wordes, 
e. g., men, wronges, unkinde, jeer, oaths, etceetera, in 
every act, would attract too much attentio' therefore I have 
varied the keyes using different ones for th' different 
parts of th' same storie, yet keeping two or three through- 
out. Most wordes signify other thinges — to put th' parts 
which accord in position or to name a worke. 

I have here no verie great field for any kinde of plaie, 
or a work most men think great, i. e., the men who only 
consider a wonder. If strange thinges, so filled with 
marvells that none read understandingly, come before 
them, t' these wise seekers they seeme most worthy, but 
commonplacenesse is to them a folly. But my decipherer 
shall not be deprived ruthlesselie of this worke, nor I of 
my due reward when this shall be understood. 

St. ALBAN. 



74 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

(Old Wives Tales should follow here, but original 
is not in hand. Twelfth Night commences thus with 
an incomplete subject.) 

This plaj hath both. By such a manner much of this 
niav be used for the other Cipher, and many days thereby 
turnM to greate- matters. As in Old Wives, if a word 
would attract attentio' by such mark'd and peculiarly 
shaped letters, it would in no waye bee in great perill. 

My keyes were form'd before one o' my plays was put 
together and all was very well plann'd. Old men might 
faile to see a curious, or rather a peculiar commingling 
of letters in th' printed pages sent out, but young eyes 
might note it, therefore there are some markes emploied 
for signes to my decypherer — yours would see in truth 
more quickly — and so no evills hap from so daring an 
experiment. In my Ilistorie of Henry th' Seventh this is 
expiain'd. Omit Finis Actus. It may add t' your confusion 
in the beginning but you can understand my other Cipher 
must have occasionally a fewe more letters. These, hav- 
ing beene us'd in your former work as you remember, will 
have moved inquiry. If you inquir'd of anyone except 
myself e, how should it bring a replie? This is for your- 
selfe. None but he that holdeth my keyes should make 
attempt to read Cyphers and one who hath a key should 
rest not yet till he hath search'd out all hidden matters. 

It is to man's glory to finde out secrets. Th' wise have 
th' fruit o' much labour o' othe' men and do more profitt 
thereby then they themselves. Thus shal you reap where 
we have soA\ai if you wearie not before nightfall. 

When Henry th' Seventh is joyn'd with th' six stag-e 
plays first sent forth i' this name, that Cypher we now 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 75 

would fain see wrought out can be discover'd. This also 
should not bee left out. I have oft nani'd some works in 
these unimporta't methods, (i. e., th' ways that were 
auxiliaries to th' principall one, that ayde th' work 
greatly) to put all huntsmen off th' scent. By use o' words 
o' lesse mark then th' names, I can "" give my decyph'rer 
signes and directions knowne but to us. 

To this short waye of giving necesarie aide to hasten 
forwards this work, I owe th' gTeat advancem'nt. Wherein 
we could alter your letters and give some hint to help to 
ayd you' wit (it is such an excellent art) we ventur'd 
upon it ere, in such clear manner, it had been noted. It 
is manifest also that you will not work in the dark long. 
To you, in sundrie wayes, our plann hath been for some 
yeers, as it is to my OAvn minde, and your quick sense doth 
see when the law of my letters is broken, and many repe- 
titio's of offence, or disregarde of th' known law must 
not seeme too frequent. Employ some meanes for setting 
right th' work. Our letters will soon returne to the form 
you have used save th' two (E and G) which wee alter 
throughout th' plays because in th' six containing another, 
th' capitall letters are us'd againe. 

A story may relate secret matters. It is th' part of a 
priident writer indeed to guard against surprises. This 
you should understand, yourself e, or asuredly you will in 
due time. A secret is verilie in the numerous Avritings 
nam'd some time ago, hoping then my hand might have 
done well all that I did uptake. 

Next write a comedy, a quaint * device for making 
knowne th' men that do give, lend, sell, or in anie othe' 
waye, have put me into possession of their names. These 

*Comedy of Errors. *Mid.summer Nigrhf s Dream 



76 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

I have iis'd as disguises that my name might not bee seen 
attached to any poem, stage-play, or anie of th' light 
workes o' this day. 

The cause of this is clear. Not alone for pride in our 
choyse o' science for a fiel' of hard laboiu', but also that 
I might be at liberty to use these workes as the exteriour 
letter, hiding my secret writi'gs, as no other person is 
cogniza't of the work save my foster-brother Anthony, my 
oAvne brother Eobert, Ben lonson, my friend, adviser and 
assistant, and our private secretary, yet for the exteriour 
part we imploie many amanuenses, for we can keepe sev- 
erall employed when reading our plays for our iinall 
review, or when assembling th' parts. 

Th' title of th' comedy is — Seven Wise Men of th' 
West. Actors' names: Robert, Christoph'r, William, 
another Robert, George, Edmund and Frances. The 
scene is London. Other name' to find parts are: th' 
pedant, braggart, foole, hedge-priest, boy, poet, philos- 
opher. 

*With these as keies you can decypher this, as I said, 
and as you bring out scenes of much witinesse both i th' 
language, and in th' gestures, actio' and situations, you 
yourselfe shall bee well entertain'd, I assure you, since it 
is as well plan'd as the workes that have been put out, and 
as well finish'd. 

When this hath been intirely decypher'd, a tragedie 
in five acts followeth it, agreeing in manie of th' keies, 
because of th' names and synonyma againe used. It is 
what every man's memory yet is aware of: A Tragedy 
of Marlow. A servant is to be added — the unworthie one 
bv whom Marlowe's life was taken — Francis Archer. As 



*Ab You Like It. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 77 

th' joyni'g words are different from th' comedy, there will 
be no danger o' getting th' parts commingl'd. 

Many other keyes are now giv'n as followeth: Tav- 
ernes, courtezan, inn-keeper, brawl, fray, dagger, wine, 
moonlight, blood, friends, death, funerall. A part of 
your materiall will be in tragedy of excellence * publish'd 
in this work, and this is to make search a pleasant taske. 
But a large part of one of th' acts is from works publish'd 
in his name. It needeth not to say this concerneth not 
Marlowe's death but his life. This often gave me a 
theame of sad interest. 

Th' remaining acts you will get in th' Essays and these 
Shakespeare plays. Th' greater part of the aforesaid 
comedie is in these comedies, and a large portion of this 
story o' Marlowe, in the tragedies. 

Anothe' history is to be decypher'd that taketh up all 
Eliza would faine leave t' Time's blindnesse. In th' play 
we give th' stor}' some o' th' strange plainnes — utter each 
true, hard charge, in boldnesse borne of a timoro's spirit 
made bold in its sure hiding, as a timorous hare in its 
refuge doth brave th' harrier — no spirit would bee daring 
enough to reveal in his work, havi'g a title leaf which 
doth bear his name, old, ominous, night stories of a mighty 
Queene. His life would bee the forfeit — mine much 
more since she is my mother; yet it herein hideth, and 
besides it is more vailed by my pen-names. 

The story o' th' Armado is told twice as it formeth 
part of our latest stage-play (of this now in your hand) 
and part of my Ciphe' epics that have doubtlessly been 
found. This historic formeth one in a series of five (in 
Cipher) and with eight in comedy and tragedy (also 

•Love's Labor's Lost. 



78 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Cipher) compleates the dramas of your t\\nce concealed 
work, — once ^^^th my names and once with my devices. 

As T have often said, and as you well know by this 
time, you have poems and prose workes on divers theames 
in all such various stiles as are put before th' world as 
Greene's, as Shakespeare's, Burto's, as Peele's, Spenser's, 
as Marlowe's, as Jonso' dramas or my own long devis'd 
and but well begun labour, — then which none hath a 
better object, — for I varied my stile to suit different men, 
since no two shew th' same taste and like imagination, 
and all doth containe th' gTeat Cypher I constantlie teach, 
although I may not freely place th' rules among a great 
part which is not of th' nature of most histories, but 
reveal eth many secrets and is not afear'd to utter truth, 
when a guard so hemmeth up th' way dange' cannot harie. 
These true words would cost us dearly, were one of th' 
tales * so much, even, as whispcr'd in some willing eare; 
yet for the sake of truth, humanity, and justice, yea 
honour also, we resolv'd to write these histories, and thus 
disguised, leave them for wits in th' ages adown Time's 
great rolling rive'. 

We still stand close at liaud (our wishes should "wield 
some power) for th' protection rightfuUie ow'd to th' 
workes, yet it is to bee desir'd tliat obscurity may wrap 
them round awhile, perchance until! my life of Time may 
slip unnoted and imregreted from th' earth. One doth 
not have wild passionate desires and longings for power, 
when the light from th' Etemall Throne doth fall on him, 
but we would leave a name and a work men must honour. 
'Tis th' ho]>e that helped me woo poetry, to pursue Muses, 
to weave dramas, to delve deep in sciences, to pore over 
philosophie. 

•Two Gentlemeo of Verona. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 79 

And 'tis to posterity I looke for honor, farre off in 
time and in place, yet should Fame sound her sweet ton'd 
trump before mee here and at this time; and there is that 
in midst wondrous dreams maketh such strong protest 
against th' doom o' oblivion, it is made most plain to me 
th' houre shall yet strike, when England shall honour me, 
their ill-fated Prince, whom all the Destinies combin'd 
to curse, and thwart each effort to obtaine that title — 
Prince o' Wales — which was in truth many a day rightlie 
my owne. 

And afterwards my stile should justlie have beene 
Francis First of England, — and yet of this no words 
availe. Too late it would bee — now that all our witnesses 
are dead, our certificat's destroy'd — to bring in a clayme 
to th' English throne. It would soone bring my death 
about. 

F. BACO". 

*Any one who can read th' plain marks plac'd in th' 
letters can write my Cypher plays and th' stories; but 
he that heedeth my signes lesse, can onlie work out part 
o' th' rules, small portions of arguments, and get barely 
an outline of th' work. 

You must therefore have uiy suggestions in your minde 
and be watchfull, lest you have a difficult taske where I 
have labour'd to make straight paths for you, while other 
men are led astray, reasoning in my minde in this waye: 
Hee who seeth th' signes must mark some significance or 
designe, but most men will suppose this to rest entirely 
in the marks and will finde nothing; while my more 
experienc'd decipherer, if he have found out any o' my 

♦Merchant of Venice. 



80 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

directio's, will soone learn tli' meaning, and by th' use 
of niark'd letters in saying this, it will not bee expos'd to 
other eies. 

As some of the plaies are histories they are not alwayes 
mentioned as dramas, but T will now make out a table (i' 
Cipher) naming all you are to decypher. There are five 
Histories as followes: The Life o' Elizabeth, The Life 
of Essex, The White Rose o' Britaine, The Life and 
Death of Edward Third, The Life of Henry th' Sevent; 
five Tragedies: IMary Queene o' Scots, Robert th' Earle 
o' Essex, (my late brother) Robert th' Earle o' Leicester 
(my late father), Death o' Marlowe, Anne Eullen; three 
Comedies: Seven Wise Men o' th' West, Solomon th' 
Second, The Mouse-Trap. 

The keies and th' arguments do not follow at this 
point, but are given elsewhere. There are three notable 
Epics which are from Greeke (Homer) and that Latine 
(similar partly in theame) of great Virgill; and a history, 
in provse commixt with verse, of England and a fewe 
Englishmen whose lives in greater or lesse degree affected 
ours. 

A list is given in early poemes — see B. I. etcetera — 
with some of the titles you have so lately found, xllso a 
fewe small poems in manie of our early workes of various 
kinds, which are in th' French language, tell a tale of 
love when life in its prime of youth and strength sang 
sweetlie to mine care, and in th' heart-beats could one 
song e'er be hoard, — and yet is heard. 

F. St. A. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 81 

*As our work still needeth a patient hand, we trust th' 
decypherer is not inclin'd to forsake these plays at present. 
Onr keies for th' story of sweet Marguerite, (as many of 
its lines can bee found when the play that is now in your 
hand shall be search'd) are heere repeated in my bi literal 
Cypher to assure the finding and working out of her 
historie which was to me labour of love to write, but to 
my sorrowe, my love was labour lost. Yet a certaine 
degree of sadnesse is to th' young pleasurable, and I 
desir'd by no means to be free of the paine. ****** 
This list co'taineth all the important keys as they were 
used when writing [her] history, and we have so wrapt 
it up in plain rule', or signes, we are co'fident this long 
tale will not seeme wearisome to you, for we would wish 
you might leave out nothing of a history of one who 
cannot bee banisht from my memorie while this heart doth 
live and beat, but we are aware it cannot interesse others 
in like degree. To mo it will be th' dream, day and 
night, that never will be ought but a vision, and yet is 
farre more reall than all things else. 

When th' history shall at length be completed, a little 
booke mention'd some time since may be -onntten. It is 
French, to please Margaret, but very short and is in 
severall small divisions. It is writte' with th' same keys 
as th' preceeding, but th' words us'd in matching parts 
together were of French, so that there is little dange' of 
making this othe' then we plann'd — a book of French 
poems. 

Your next should be my Life at th' (\)urt of France, 
then a drama, Mary Queene of Scots, which is folowed 
by anothe' drama. AVork out the play with th' first style 

*Taming of tlie Shrew. 



82 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

before you begin the second, for they were written to 
make out my long list of th' histories. 

F. B. 

*Any play publisht as Marlowe's, came from th' t^ame 
source as all which you will now work out. A name 
hath no limits or bounds, it is somewhat like Charitie. 
[f you have written all this in order — a supposition very 
improbable — yon know the names chosen as masks. 

Greene, Spense', Peele, Shakespeare, Burton, and Mar- 
ley, as you may somewhere see it, or, as it is usually giv'n, 
Marlowe, have thus farre been my masks, which have 
caused no mark'd surprise because they have familia' 
name' on th' title page, not fancied, but of living men, at 
the least, of men who have lived. 

A few works also beare th' name o' my friend, Ben 
Jonson — these are Sejanus and th' Masques, used to con- 
cealo the Illiads chiefly, and to make use o' my newe 
Cypher. If th' writings are lost no part o' my Cypher 
work will be so greatly injured as Homer, or my bolde, 
youthfull, but worthie rendering of it into our language. 
A work of such magnitude as th' Iliads could not well 
bee twice given in Cypher, but many o' th' other writings 
are repeated in principall things, preventing by this 
device th' entire losse in case others shall bee destroy 'd. 

You can as hath beene pointed out write Marlowe, a 
tragedy of great interest and o' some dramatick power, 
but not so great a work, nor so estimable as th' tragicall 
histories of my brother and father. N^ot all our exterior 
plays are of equall value as dramaticall workes, for it is 
often difficult if even possible, to \\a'ite manie plays that 

*Merry Wives of Windsor. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 83 

contain Cypher materiall, and at all times place both th' 
interior and exteriour plays diiely, giving advantages to 
merit whether it may appeare in one or another. But 
I have said what must be needlesse if this work have had 
faithfull service for it doth prove these words many times 
ove'. 

As this play is now studied with new rules for my 
Cypher work, I am assured progress upon it may truly 
improve. If paines be take' to see such names as are 
plac'd here, my owne as to most men I am known — Bacon 
— doth plainly stand forth. My true title sheweth in 
Cypher againe and againe, — Francis First, King of Great 
Britaine and Ireland, — or in playes of a somewhat earlier 
date, various stiles: Th' Prince; the true heire to the 
throne; th' Prince of Wales; th' first-born sonne t' Eliza- 
beth; Sonne to th' Queene and heyre-apparent, since I 
was entitl'd in justice to all these before th' death of 
Elizabeth, my mother, th' virgin — as she wish'd to be 
considered — who rul'd with a strong [hand] over Eng- 
land, and me. 

Her will was like stern iron-hearte' kings of days o' 
yore, but she was vain withal and loved th' admiration 
of all men, especially of princely visitors * coming t' wooe. 
All suitors (much as th' first commer) for some reason 
had such hope of successe as turn'd some heads, no 
mentio' being made of impediments, — th' Duke of Anjou 
paying the compliment of an arrangement whereby their 
sonnes should recei^^e instructio' . in Roman Catholicke 
faith, the daughters in th' Protestant. Such play did 
well agree, su'ting Elizabeth's vain soule and nursing a 
kind of pride, akin to ill-starr'd Marguerite's, and to her 
sadder fated mother's — faire Anne Bullen's. 

*Mea3ure for Measure. 



84 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Her wisedom, however, saved her in this, as th' love 
of devotion was th' surface of [her] characte' — not a 
main ciirent. It will be noted M'hen her whole life is 
deciphered, that she did inherit much of th' sterne dis- 
position that characterized her sire and ,i>randsire. Heniy, 
sire, shew'd it lesse, as it mingled with heartinesse and 
fresh spirites, but as every Tudor, downe from our ances- 
tors to one nam'd Eobert, loved his owne will and his 
owne waye, "Merry Harry," marks you, conceal'd some 
of it under a maske of good-nature. As this part may 
soon be done I put my word-keyes in all o' th' rest o' 
these comedies. * * * * 

With these keyes our historic of Elizabeth is to be de- 
cyplier'd. If care be taken to keep th' parts separate in 
writing-deske and drawers, untill the table of words that 
is us'd in bringing all these parts together shall have 
beene prepared, none can get astray and th' work will be 
made easier. This part o' my charge to you is oft 
repeated since it is of prime importance, and a prope', 
constant obsen^ance of the same will greatlie facilitate 
this task. 

You have neede both of patient and orderly habits to 
become a good decyph'rer, and you must aim to attaiue 
these if not already th' fortunate possessor of all th' desir- 
able vertues of a Cyplier reader. Assuredly th' work that 
we have spent all th' best yeeres of life upon, would not 
clayme too wide notice nor too great fervou'. 

Some do not fully know o' th' imminent perill that 
overhung my life at th' time the plays were put forth, nor 
could one word of my birth and title bee publisht if not 
wrapt upp, mixed, disguis'd. Hence, if the decyphere' 
faile mo, it will never be seene of anie eye save my owne. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 85 

None is able to put all th' fragments of history in place if 
he bee iminstriicted. It is a seal'd book if it have not my 
faithfull interpreter. 

* We place as great value upon this play as we shall 
[on] any we can write, for it is our own fathe', his life, 
a theme soe much in my owne dark memory that I must 
needes think of it oft, and thus its ^\Tongs moving strong 
indignation within me, my tongue and penne are fired to 
eloquence. And th' scenes do shew th' fury o' th' heart 
within them — th' w^ords burne with a celestiall light, for 
to my soul it lent its ray divine, even as I wrote. 

Whosoever may question assertions that tend to shew t' 
mankinde evidences of a divine thought interfusing th' 
human minde, hath but to prove it by experiment. He 
would not bee ready to cavil, or laugh to scorn this asser- 
tion, which I may repeate anon, that Divine aide was given 
mee in my work. I have, at th' least, accomplished a 
great work in fewe yeares, work of such a difficult nature 
that no one hand could accomplish, except other than 
myselfe upheld or directed it. This howeve' doth not 
further our fame, or affect this work now, to taxe your 
most subtile wit and penetration, and should not further 
take th' time requir'd to complete our work. 

Tw^o comedies we hid in Ciphe', and in the lists nam'd, 
have no more worth than many others but will repaie th' 
trouble of decyphering, for they tell th' storie of my 
maskes which began in Th' Seven Wise Men of th' West, 
as you know, and have all th' men as th' actours that are 
nam'd in it. For these you will seeke keyes to the one 
nam'd as Solomon th' Second. They are i' th' — 

(Tale of Troy & Hiren the Fairie Greek should follow.) 



*Much Ado About Nothing. 



8b BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON. 

* Yoli can now without difficnlty write th' three come- 
dies that were shewn you. All th' keies have beene given, 
and th' stories related in so clear and fine a manner that 
you have onely to apply yourselfe and persevere. The 
work is ready and doth wait your hand, as blocks of stone 
that are prepar'd and polished for th' builder, aye, and 
marked that each may be fitted into its place. 

This aydeth very greatly th' taske of bringing th' parts, 
that have beene separated, backe agayne into th' proper 
relations. If care be taken it should not require great 
skill, nor more yeares then I have giv'n to th' work. 
Patience should have perfect labour in my devices, also 
jnost constant and untiring perseverance, for these are 
principal vertues in a decipherer. And as I keep the 
future ever in my plann, looking for my reward, not to 
my times or countreymen, (but to a people very far off, 
and an age not like our owne, but a second golden age of 
learning, so keepe your owne thoughts on a day to be, 
when all these workes being seen of men, your fame, mth 
mine, shall ring th' earth around and eccho to th' Ages 
that are still farre dowm Time's shadowie waye. Truth 
shall come forth at your word, and lay these cerements 
aside, as Lazarus, when he heard th' Master speak, arose. 

St. ALBA'. 



* Do royall brothers ever get so sad of heart as my 
dearlye loved brother, but we are kin and we are of royal 
blood too. Our lofty aym — hopes by a new sorrow and 
wrathfull Erinnys frighted — then shewed duty how 
much there is to winne. 



♦Winter's Tale. *Henry the Sixth. Part I. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. St 

Crownes must be as of old, night tmcl daytime well 
attended, or some wild rout, waiting in ambush Rapin's 
black, opportune time, without a warning steal th' glory 
o' th' land, leaving behind them meerely desolatio'. This 
was narrowly averted i' England, securely as her crown is 
watcht, nor did these empty headed tools do ought but 
obey a superior minde, — that of my brother Essex. Th' 
rebels might do his bidding meerely — that was th' limitt 
of their power or abilitie — and he alone did lay his plann. 

Had it not met the overturn deserv'd, th' younger of 
th' sonns would inherite ere the elder. By law this could 
occur onely when th' rightfull, or, as we name him in our 
countrey, heire-apparent hath waived his rights. As I 
was known, not as his brother onely, but as the Queene's 
first-borne, such plots should at best naturally awaite my 
full knowledge and consent. But puft up thus with shew 
o' militarie glory, an entrance to power (whose sigiies th' 
robes, th' crowne, scepter and state so work'd o' his in- 
ilam'd phantasy, as to have farre more valew then royal 
sword), openi'g with very small tap on his oute' doore, it 
may bee onelie naturall, aiid easily acompted for, though 
not so easy to meet. 

This was much aggravated in our mindes by some pri- 
vate assurances that had so deceyv'd us, that we saw not a 
signe of danger, but trusted his word, nor imputed those 
assurances to ought but good will, expecti'g right and 
honest trustworthinesse of Robert D — as a gentleman, 
both by that royall blood that is our heirship, and by the 
old-time gentle nurture he receiv'd as ward o' Devereux. 

£n fine his early youth was lightly passed, but after he 
did know that 'twas th' Queene that gave him life, he 
grew^ imperious and (when brought to Court by our truely 



88 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS 6AC0N. 

ingenious father, whom an evill sprite much troubled — 
e'en a jealousy o' some o' tb' Queene's favoured lords that 
did attend her), his will shew'd its true source, and re- 
veal'd th' origin of th' young Caesar. And in th' after 
time it could well be discern'd that he did draw deception 
from it. Our fountain o' life hath much earthie sub- 
stance. Ev'n i' this royall source were slimy sp)ts, and 
fro' it our blood took some slighte poyson, which assuredly 
could not be accredited to th' noble daughter o' Sir 
Francis Knowlles on the parte -of young Essex, and lesse 
on the pait of myselfe, to a descendant o' honorable Sir 
Anthony Cooke. But 'twas not poyson alone that we 
took thus, nor shall succeeding violls beare one half so 
great drops of black venom, for as it commingh^th in an- 
other fountain with nobler blood it becometh pure. 

To our mother is th' fearlesnesse that Essex shewed to 
be traced directlie, and that promptnesse of judgement in 
a sudden calamity; but with sufficie't time given to delib- 
erate, Essex, ev'n more than she, would shew a variety o' 
opinions in so swift succession, you must use much vntt 
to gain one hee would give his name unto. When theii* 
wills should be matcht, 'twere no light task t' decide as 
to the result. Like his mother i' tempo' he could break, 
but nere even slightly bend, and in the most of such 
trialls, no end that most exasperating method o' contest 
resulted in, could bee worth much as it was more fre- 
([uently accidentall then plann'd, — therefore th' peace 
could never long endure. 

Such a flitting sunshine is sometimes th' brighte', more 
golden, more dazzling. Those who were of a discreete 
dissposition, bask'd in th' rayes, and smil'd while faire 
skies did bend over us, but none knew when th' tempest's 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 89 

wrath might change oitr bright daje to blacke night, and 
a darknesse more dire (said some) then Egypt's plague, 
cover heaven's dome. 

Essex nere did ought in a spirit of revenge, but sim- 
plie that hee might winne th' due rewards of courage or 
of valor, if this doth in any manner better term such ver- 
tue. His nature was not small, pettie, or ev'n dwarfed in 
development. It was larger in many directions then any 
who now censure and decry him, possesse. Among mil- 
lions a voyce like his reach'd our listening, most attentive 
ears. Wanting that sound, no other is sweete and this 
silence is a paine. 

That hee did wrong me, now is to bee forgot, and 
wiped fro' th' minde's recollection, in my thoughts of the 
evill that hath come to us (chiefly to myselfe) by this 
rebellion o' th' Earle, but th' love and tender regard that 
marked all our first sunny young days when wee were not 
oft to be found out o' harmonic, hath swaye. Those 
houres still live in my memory, more then our first very 
open and sore disputes. 

But one thing, more even then pleasing and happy 
variation of this one theame, crowds on my braine. O, 
Heavenly Day! illume this night of Earth, for I am loste 
in the man}^ turnes of this Avide waste o' desart. Let light 
divine shine as in Moses, his weary way, when hee was 
guided through th' sea, across wilds untrack'd to lands th' 
people were, after try all, given to possesse in peace, and 
lead me unto my rest. 

Th' paine — th' memory of my part in th' tryal — hath 
power to make th' brightest day grow dun. Saving my 
own life in this way, is paying much for that I would 
indeed faine lose; my life no longer seemeth fayre, save 



90 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

as I spend tli' time for other's good. Tli' labour of hands 
:in(l head slial better raise my monument up to men's 
sight, then marlde faire, chojse ebonie, or brasse. 

The workes I do, mid rankes truely ignorant of such 
attempts, would seeme greater then th' parts th' men o' 
my times have kuo^\^le of. Indeed it may not winn any 
belief, since it would seem more then * th' hand of but a 
mortall could (by anie manner of working at this daye 
knowne to authours) iinayded and alone performe. When 
it shall beare more fruit then the penne of this truly note- 
worthy youth that all praise, or that philosopher, whom 
few even read to understand, the cause is clear enough for 
you to acquainte all men with so much truth, which is 
simply use o' th' time. 

I do so emploie myselfe that the minde doth not sooner 
enter into labyrinthian turning's then my hand beginneth 
its part of th' labour. When you do so completelie applie 
your efforts and attention, you should accompte it to your 
owne great gain, so greatly th' judicious use o' your much 
valued howres shall bring reward. 

A Cypher historic is hidden with pains herein, which 
when my name doth stand thereto affixt can but allure 
both busy publique men, and the idling, fawning, woman- 
like sorts that even crown'd head cannot avoid. Th' work 
is HI I'd with events so interesting 'twill sometime appeare 
to you like dreaming when, even from our workes which 
tell th' secrets that must yet be kept from some men, seven 
distinct and much consider'd, carefully poised and rightlie 
estimed, prudent causes, at present warn our best friends 
it is too soon to declare for their prince. And I some- 
times am in feare that 'twill come at a most untimely (if 

•Henry the Sixth, Part III. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 91 

not post mortem) period, for it hath even now turned th' 
marking point O' five decades. This then is more then a 
half century o' such unsatisfied longi'g and desire for 
justice. 

Old men have been laid i' th' tombe and children have 
become men, yet this matte' is in its feeble conditio'. 'Tis 
still i' th' cradle, nor can I have great hope to see th' 
maturity of this dearly lov'd, long cherisht dreame, 
promise — I might use a still stronge' or ti*uer word since 
it is sometime — expectation. Then, too, sometimes th' 
prize doth seeme quite near — ^h' bowe in all th' clouds 
doth give me most trust in th' Divine Eye watching th' 
course of humane life, guarding, guiding every footstep, 
and sharing our manie woes. 

j^i times a divinity seemeth truly to carve rudely hew'd 
ends into beauty, such as God must plan when we are 
shaped in His thought, inasmuch as He can, aye, He doth, 
/See th' whole of life ere we draw th' first trembling breatli. 
This doth ayde us daily to climbe th' hights of Pisgah, 
where, crossing over, our souls do see th' land of our long- 
ing desire. 

Mark my word-key es to unlock this play: They are 
question, or any othe' method or forme by which th' in- 
quiry I make is shewn in th' play. Should you see, now, 
any answer lightly on tip o' toe come slily in, make sweete 
her due welcome. Shee is th' faire little wife — th' con- 
sorte — whose assistance is truly no way so unnecessarie as 
you must think, or you would look for her at once. Then 
find Queene, th' key for my owne portion of our history, 
with names of royalty. To the words which pertain to 
this realm add France, for it must contain in it one page 
of my storie which some o' my latest books cannot give. 



f)2 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS SACON. 

Paris, with French stile or title make up tli' rest, and th' 
first two acts are prepar'd. Work them out. 

* In my work intitl'd David, the tale that now is con- 
tayned in Iambi, soe arrang'd to preserve stately ancient 
usages and formes of speech, I have hidden th' most of 
th' storie of Margaret's life, as any parts lent eyther grace 
to its scenes or pathetick strains to its story. Of necessity, 
th' birth of th' young son, to coste so cruell ill, doth have 
no sort of place within her story. It appertayneth to 
another story with quite simila' keies except the last 
named. 

The most of a play in this same name (Ge. Peele's), 
The Arraignment o' Paris, continueth th' stories o' Mar- 
garet's manie affaires du cojur, and being used also for th' 
Iliad, must have your attentive eyes here at all times to 
select these keies and keep th' two separate. Remembe' 
the Iliad is often to bee found in other works and, if time 
were without end, it should be left untill all th' other 
matter were decypher'd; so would my second taske be 
easie' and not lesse pleasant. 

It is a fine art — this o' keeping each o' these twain 
apart, nor losing th' rout o' keyes (much like untrain'd 
soldiers) nor commixing th' parts that are to be conjoin'd, 
just as stones that forme our pallaces are skilfully joyn'd, 
one by one, after th' designe trac'd by th' master's hand: 
that wonderfull grace shewed itselfe in this mindo ev'n 
l)ofore the plann was fully limn'd. Th' dec^q^herer must 
truely note that th' part he must take in th' work is that 
of any labourer, th' designe being perfected yeares before 
his eyes saw th' light: but no surer is honour to the name 
o' th' inventour then to the decypherer, for they must 

•Coriolanus. 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 9S 

assist as though they were th' braine and th' hands joyn'd 
in man's body; and, with no one to ayde in th' taske, all 
might remaine here unseen till th' end o' time. 

Therefore, I beseech you serve me now untill th' work 
shal be done, for fame is nearer then men know iSTone 
who hear of this work could let so curious a labour of 
your hand remain hid from them. So as Rumour doth 
hasten afarre, your name will be heard from shore to 
shore. ^Tow must your time out-valew gold — th' houres 
seem Jewells, dayes th' diadem, for surelie in our wise use 
o' it, doth our moment — th' jot so minute 'tis seldom rec- 
ogTiiz'd — appear precious. 

This must have been, many times over, said to you if 
th' whole of this Cipher hath been undone, yet I pray 
your patience for th' divers wayes and th' repetitio's used, 
since not a sign doth give me any right to hope this would 
be taken up where I began, and follow'd till th' great 
story were found. I put every direction, as hath beene 
so often said, in divers of my newe workes. This plann 
will proove so clear to your judgement, then, that it must 
quiet all doubt of my taste. Th' end shall convince much 
more indeed then argument. It is, to a work of so secret 
nature th' chief e meanes that doth remain: therefore I 
entreate you to bee most dilligent and staye not till all 
bee finished. If all keys have beene mark'd and assorted, 
the joining can proceed at once, if you note the words. 

F. B. 

At first my plann of Cipher work was this: to shew 
secrets that could not be publish'd openly. This did so 
well succeed that a different (not dangerous) theme was 



94 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

entrusted to it; and after each was sent out a newe desire 
possess'd me, nor left nie day or night untill T took up 
againe th' work I love so fondly. 

Some school verses went into one, since I did deeme 
them good — worthie o' preservation in my truly precious 
casket studded thicke with houres farre above price. Even 
my translations of Homer's two immortall poemes as well 
as many more of lesse valew have a place in my Cypher; 
and th' two our most worth} Latine singer left in his lan- 
guage I have translated and used in this waye — Virgill's 
x5]neid and Eclogues. Onely a fewe of those I have 
turn'd from most vigorous Latine, were put out. Most o' 
th' translations as 1 have just said, apeare i' th' work and 
must not be held of little worth, for assuredly they are my 
best and most skill'd work. 

It is a great art to English stately Greeke verse rightly, 
and if you turno it againe into prope' measure, eyther you 
must sacrifice th' sound or wrest the thought; and.th' 
exact words are often wanting to voyce its wondrous lan- 
guage. It is famed the wide earth arou'd, for its lofti- 
nesse of diction and its sounding nu'bers. 

Th' Illiads and parts o' th' adventures of Ulyses fur- 
nish our chief examples, as no Greeke poet in any .Eon 
hath approacht his style or his imagination. Regarding 
Virgill's ^neid, we must honor it among all Latine 
poems, but it doth lacke Homer's incomparable, marvel- 
lously witching art, strong diction, true spirit, fire of an 
immortal youth. 

In a play is imitated action of heroes, in the Eliads is 
th' reall, the living scene. You see a battaile and hear th' 
cries o' th' Trojans, and see th' Greekes sweepe on in 
noyselesse grandeur like devouring flames: you feel how 



IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 95 

Achilles' angry spiritt swelleth in his savage breast as he 
sitteth by the sea calling his he^rt, and Agamemno' tri- 
umpht over the bravest, worthiest Greeke that sailed to 
Ilion. 

In this short play you must get many o' th' lines of th' 
great poem of which I speake. You have th' keyes, if as 
manie plays bee decypher'd by this time as I suppose, also 
numerous rules for joyning these small portio's into per- 
fect Iliads. 

L. VERULA'. 



ROBERT BURTON, 



ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY. 



Now as to my Ciphe' alphabets here, th' letters will be 
thought to be like those of other editio's. It will bee 
quickly noted as our work shall be follow'd with care, maiiie- 
subtile innovationshave been made that so change each later 
issue that it is almost as unlike th' precedent editions as 
another or different work. This made it necessarie to alter 
th' bi-literall Ciphe', and as it doth contain now a verie dif- 
ferent story, we prythee, do not passe it without giving your 
attention to these Italicke letters, for a great portion of 
your aids are to be found in my third edition. 

Studie our others by all our early work, but those which 
we put out now are to bee emploi'd when th' two Latine 
workes are to be \mtten. All work in margine of my first 
will be used for that Latine work and may be left untill the 
last; that of our second and tliird were to aid you in bring- 
ing out Homer's bookes, and may bee decipher'd at once 
after the part you are eng-aged upon shall be finisht. 

And you should make a great efforte in writing th' Ciphe' 
historie, to followe closelie my rules, drawn out and ren- 
der'd most crystalline like polisht min-ours of Steele, for my 
whole work upon this doth teach, t' my onely interprete', 
something new and helpfull to th' other important Cyphe' 
not yet written out. Let not my work be lost, for 'tis of 



IN ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY. 97 

importance to many besides jourselfe, and no historie may 
be complete without it. Indeed tbe whole nationall record 
must bee chang'd by a revelation of such a kinde, but if 
I have not your aide, no eie but my decypherer's, when I 
am resting from my labours, shall read that which I have 
prepar'd with such great paines for posterity. Therefore 
must hand and pen, as vv'el' as th' braine and a most ready 
and quiche eye, now effect th' rest. I must leave it in 
your wise care in future, for my light o' life must ere long 
be extinguisht, and again I do entreate that you be so dili- 
gent that my great labour for truth shall not lie in embryo 
longer, but come forth, when th' time shall be accomplisht, 
unto th' day. Study to ayd, not to put a straw in th' way. 
Under much of th' outer huske is th' kemell, worth th' 
search of many a yeare, utterly lost to th' world till it have 
beene brought forth. 

As hath been said, much of th' materiall of th' Eiad may 
be found here, as well as Homer, his second wondrous storie, 
telling of Odysseus, his worthie adventures. Th' first 
nam'd is of greater worth, beautie and interesse, alone, in 
my estimation, then all my other work together, for it is 
th' crowning triumph of Homer's pen; and he outstrips all 
th' others in th' race, as though his wits had beene Ata- 
lanta's heeles. N^ext we see Virgill, and close behind them, 
striving to attaine unto th' hights which they mounted, do 
I presse on to th' lofty goale. In th' plays lately publisht, 
I have approacht my model I closelie, and yet it doth ever 
seem beyond my attainment. 

Here are the diverse bookes, their arguments and sundry 
examples of th' lines, in our bi-literall Cipher. 



98 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 



Th' Greekes maintain'd th' siege of Illion for nine yeares 
without taking th' city or winning Menelaus' Qiieene away 
from Prince Paris, who had stolen her, 'tis said, with her 
full and free consent, and defending his mad deed with 
eqiiall spirit, prolong'd th' warre. In th' meantime many 
townes having beene sack'd, and the inhabitants destroi'd or 
led captive into th' campe of th' Greekes, both Agamemnon 
and worthie Achilles were allotted each a beautiful maiden, 
Prisei's falling to the lot of Achilles, and unto Agamemnon, 
Gliviseis, th' beautifuU A'irgin daughter to Apollo's priest, 
Chryses. In th' first booke Achilles is introduced very 
angry, — in truth th' entire work is th' storie of his anger, — 
as may be scene in th' first two verses of the poem, whicli 
are plac'd below: 

O goddesse, sing of th' destructive wrath 
Of fierce Achilles, Peleus' worthy sonne. 

Nor was his anger easily appeased, as all learned unto 
their sorrowe. For th' priest Chryses came to th' vaste 
armament of Greekes, making supplication for his virgin 
daughter, and bringing treasures inestimable; bearing also 
th' fillets of Apollo on the golden scepter tliat ho carried. 
Then all th' Greekes lifted their voyces in a gTeat shout 
saying: "Deliver this priest's daughter lest Apollo be 
angry with us; accepte th' ransomes also, that th' treasures 
of the warriours be increas'd." However, to Agamemnon 
it caused sore displeasure, nor could priest nor people per- 
suade him to set th' mayden at libertie, and restore her to 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 99 

her father; but he dismissed th' old man evilly, bidding 
him depart precipitatelie lest he should abide it to his cost. 
And th' priest, in silence, walk'd along th' shore of the 
resounding sea. After awhile, with many a prayer and 
teare, th' old man cried aloud unto Apollo, and his voyce 
was heard. 

Th' god in anger sent his arrows into the Grecian campe, 
killing at first onely dogs and mules, but at last he aim'd 
his arrowes against the Greekes, and thousands died of pes- 
tilence. For ten dales his cruell shafts sped on his errands 
of gloomy death, and there were high heaps of slaine war- 
riours, nor did the smoke of the funerall piles cease from 
day to day. Achilles then summon'd a councill, and 
charg'd Calchas, if he could tell th' cause of th' punish- 
ment inflicted upon the Grecian armie, that he be 
couragious to declare it, relying upon th' protection Achilles 
pledged him, should any in authoritie dislike what he musfl 
reveale; whereupon he said, it was because that Agamem- 
non had ill-treated a priest of th' god, in refusing th' maid 
Chrisei's to her father, Avhen he came bearing the scepter 
of th' great god and his fillets, with inestimable ransomes 
as a recompence. 

Thereupon an altercation hotly rag'd 'tA\axt xVchilles and 
his commander, which ISTestor appeas'd. Agamemnon sent 
Chrisei's to her father, but immediately requir'd his her- 
alds to go to th' tent of Achilles and to bring Achilles' 
maid, Briseis, unto him. Th' maid obeyed in quiet griefe, 
but Achilles sat down by th' sea, and made complainte to 
Thetis, old Xereus' daughter, mother to our hero. Soe 
plaintive was his cry, th' nymphe hastily left her sea-cave, — 
where she sat by th' side of her sire, as some blooming 
flowe' upon its stalk, — and made efl:'ort to comfort th' 



100 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

heart of proud Achilles. She promis'd to goe to Olympus, 
when Jove return 'd from a twelve dayes' stay with th' 
belov'd people o' th' .Ethiopians, pleading for grace at 
th' feet of great Jove, and praying that th' victorie should 
bee given to th' Trojan arms untill th' Clreekes should 
honor Achilles againe as hee deserv'd. 

Upon th' morning of th' twelfe day, faire Thetis arose 
from th' sea and climb'd Olympus' top, where finding Jove 
sitting aparte upon th' highest peake, she twined one arme 
round the knees of th' god, put up th' other hand to lifte 
his chin and earnestly besought him, if eve' that she by 
word or deede had given him pleasure, her request be 
granted and Achilles honour'd of all th' Greekes. To this 
hee consented after a long delay and confirmed his promise 
by a nod. 

But Juno discover'd Thetis, and, according to her usuall 
jealous manner, was soe loud in denouncing Jove, every 
god and goddesse was affrighted. Then her sonne, Vulcan, 
interfering, soothed her and averted calamitie in th' 
heavens. 

II. 

Jove had no rest; sleepe came not unto him; all night 
he lay upon his couch of gold, devising meanes to make 
his promise good, nimph Thetis wonne from him, and 
finally sent a pernicious dream to Agamemnon — a dream 
of victories unayded by Achilles. 

Agamemnon rose, and putting on th' regall garments, 
went out to summon th' Grecian lords to councill and 
impart his vision; but at the same time hee suggested a 
plan contrar)- to his owne wishes, meerely to try th' temper 
of th' Greekes, and propos'd to urge a returne unto Argos. 
Xone should in truth goe away, since Ulysses should use 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 101 

much eloquence to tume aside or send back all who would 
depart. Thereupon all th' Greekes were assembled, and 
Agamemnon, leaning upon his ancestral scepter, eloquentlie 
spake of the long fruitlesse toile, of the wives and infants 
who in Argos and th' farre isles of th' sea awaited their 
comming, and soe moved them that as one man they echoed 
th' cry, "Let us re tume." 

Straightway th' hosts sweepe ore th' sandy plaine, like 
th' billows o' th' Icarian Sea under great winds. Th' dust 
is as th' smoke rising from a furnace, and loud shouts like 
th' resounding sea are heard. Some seize th' ships to drag 
them to th' main, and all make ready with tumulte that 
doth reach to heaven. 

Juno, fearing their abandonment o' th' great quest, 
sent th' blue-eyed maid, Minerva, to staye them. Descend- 
ing th' heights of proud Olympus like a smnmer starre, 
Pallas swiftlie flew to th' Grecian campe, and sought out 
wise Ulysses, like unto th' gods in counsel, where he stood 
silent with averted face, and laid no hand on his blacke- 
hull'd ships. 

Recognizing th' voyce of th' goddesse, as she incited him 
to use all his wonderfull, silver-tongued eloquence to stem 
th' flood o' th' flying host, he ran forth to meete Agamem- 
non and obtain'd th' paternal scepter. Then he quicklie 
passed through th' throng, smoothelie persuading those that 
were royal or noble, while hee, rebukingly with th' scepter 
smiting th' base-borne, bade them submit unto his will 
and cease their tumult. Soone every Greeke turn'd back 
to goe once more to hold councill upon't, loudly murmur- 
ing and surging like th' sea. 

Finally all save Thersites fell into silence. Hee alone, 
ever clamouring and delighting much in noisie railings and 



102 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

scandalous rovilings 'gainst prince or lord, (but most wild 
and wreaklesse when proud Achilles and Ulysses were his 
scomfull theame, for toward them his envy and spleene 
raged ceaselessly) was upon that daie so spitefull 'gainst 
Atrides, that Ulysses, resenting that dishonour to th' 
Generall, reprov'd him severely, and even used th' scepter 
as a rod, smiting him so rudely that great weals came up 
under each heavy blow, and th' bloud coui-s'd swiftly dowai 
his backe. Thersites wip'd a teare away, and, submissively 
restraining all further speaking, hee took th' seate th' wise 
Ulysses pointed out upon th' ground. Then all th' people 
marvell'd and exclaim'd with wonder to see Thersites vau- 
quish'd. 

A stormy but unfruitfull, dispute among th' Princes was 
begun, wliich Xestor cut short by saying to them that they 
spake as children, and liim&elfe propos'd to their cheefe 
that he divide th' armie into tribes, placing kin with kin 
to strengthen and aide each th' other. Whereupon Aga- 
memnon bade his hosts make hasty preparation for battell; 
and straightwaye the armie dispers'd among th' tents, and 
smoke rose upward throughout th' campe as they prepar'd 
th' meal. 

But Atrides made a sacred feast, offering in sacrifice 
an ox of five yeares, strong and beautifull. First he bade 
that venerable sage, Nestor, then summoned Idomeneus 
and Tydides, then both th' Ajaces and th' wise Ulysses, 
but Menelaus, uninvited, follow'd. When they had com- 
pleted th' ceremonies, Kestor bade Atrides send out their 
lieralds and summon th' armie to th' plain to prepare th' 
hosts to battell, and to separate th' warriours by tribes. 
This was accordinglie done, and Minerva took th' /Egid 
nhield whose fringe was valued above hundreds of oxen. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 103 

Then she pass'd to and fro amid th' hosts and arranged 
them, at the same time inciting them to battell, so that they 
remember'd their homes and eountrey no more. Their 
breasts glowed and burned with desire to enter into the 
conflict and atchieve great honour. 

That daie Jove rendered Atrides conspicuous among 
heroes, and glorious, — more, even, then his wont, — moving 
midst the throng in his shining armor. 

There followeth a catalogue of th' shippes: 

Peneleus, Leitus, Prothoenor, joyned ^^dth Arcesilaus 
and bold Clonius, equall in arms and in command, led 
Boeotia's hosts; and there went with them fiftie sable shipps. 
Those whose home was upon rocky Aulis, hillio Eteon or 
the waterie plains of Hyrie; in Schoenos, or Scholos, Grsea 
or Mycalessia; those who came out from Peteon, from 
Harma, Heleone or Hyle, well water'd by its springs that 
ever rise ; those who dwelt in lof tie Medeon and in Ocalea ; 
in Haliartus or in Thespia sacred to th' god Apollo; and 
Onchestus where ISTeptune's temple stood; and those who 
dwelt in Copse and Thisbe, fam'd for faire doves, or pas- 
torall Erythrse; Glissa where \T.nes abound; in greene 
Platea and divine jSTysa; in Hypotheba' that well-built 
city, or where Eutresis and fair Coronea rose; in rich 
Ame, or Anthedon upon th' farthest bound o' fan*e distant 
Boeotia: of these each ship bore six score warriors. 

After these followed the troops of Aspledon in thirty 
sable shippes, comming from fertile Orchomenus and led 
by the two sonnes of Astyoche, (which she brought forth 
'prest by god Mars whom she met in th' court of Actor) 
the valiant pair, lalmen and Ascalaphus. 

Then came th' Phocions led to Phrygia by bold Epis- 
trophus and Shedius from the faire land where th' Cephisus 



104 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

floweth; from Panopea and Clirysa, isle of Phoebus; and 
from Anemoria, Daulis and fai-re oif Pytho', or Cyparissut: 
and Lilsea. Their fortie shippes ranged close upon the left 
of th' Boeotians. 

A Locrian squadron, — dwellers in Bessa, C'.ynos, Thron- 
us; in Opus, Calliarus, Scarphea; or where fay re Augeia 
stood; or in well-wooded Tarphea, — led by O'ileus sonne, 
tlr lesser Ajax, skilled in the use o' th' spetir, Avas full forty 
vessels in number. 

Xext came the long haired Abantes that dwelt in 
Eubcea, — in Chalcis or wel-built Eretria; or in Isteia for 
her Wneyards fam'd throughout th' world; and in Caristos 
and in Styra; in Dion and Cerinthus. These, led by 
Elephenor, you see in fortie black keel'd shippes. 

jSText th' Athenians folow'd, led to Ilium by Menes- 
theus, who excell'd all th' other Greekes, save Nestor alone, 
in marshalling th' hosts. These were conjoyned with th' 
troopes from Salamis the sonne t' Telamon was chosen to 
command. 

IsText came th' Argives from Troezene and Maseta; and 
from uEgina, th' sea-girt isle; and strong wall'd Tirynthia, 
vine famous Epidaurus ; from Asine, sited on th' cliffs, and 
from the harbor of Hermione, led by Diomed and Euryalus 
with Sthenelus, yet was Tydides chiefe. With them fol- 
io w'd eighty shippes. 

And next came th' dwellers in Cleonse, or in Mycenae, 
and, fairest of th' faire, Corinth the Beautif nil ; or in f ertil 
Ornia, and Arsethyrea; in Pelene, noted for flocks; or 
rielice, ITyperesia; or in farre Gonoessa. These in a 
hundred shippes came with Agamemnon, th' generall, who 
led them foorth — the resplendent, for Jove did render him 
conspicuous in giitt'ring arms. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 105 

And next was Menelaus, his brother, who commanded 
Sparta's forces, eager to avenge beautious Helen's rape — 
warriors from Pharis, Brysite, rocky Lacedsemon; those 
who dwelt in Messeis, renown'd for silver doves: or in 
Amyclse, Laas, Augia, CEtylos [and] Helos, by th' sea. 
With these three score vessels sailed. 

Then Nestor, th' aged king, with his armie came from 
sandy Pylos; those that inhabit that land soe fruictfull — 
Amphigenia — where lof tie -3^py and little Pteleon do stand ; 
and Arene also; Thryos, where th' Alpheus watereth th' 
meads; and famed Dorion, where bold Thamyris, boasting 
that he could excell Muses in musick, was made blinde 
by th' scorn'd Muses, who, furious, deprived him 
also of his beautiful voyce, nor might hee charm again. 
With him sail'd ninety vessels. 

Th' Arcadians, — those whose territory lay under loftie 
Cylene round old xEpytus' tomb; who dwelt in Ripe, or 
Stratie; in those places bordering Tegea; in Stymphalus, 
upon Parrhasia, her lofty cliffs; in windie Enispe or pleas- 
ant Mantinea, were commanded by Agapenor, sonne to 
glorious Ancteus. However, the couutrie being neyther 
large nor powerfuU, their shippes were furnish'd by Aga- 
memnon. Of these he sent sixty to bear them across© 
the sea. 

Then th' Epeans followed, — they that inhabited the 
clime, where Buprasium joyn'd unto Elis (confined by 
Hynnina, Myrsinus, as farre as th' famed Olenian rock, 
and where th' Alisium flowed). In four separate fleets 
they were divided, each containing ten vessels. Amphim- 
acus led one, Thalpius th' second, Diores th' third, and 
Polyxenus th' last. 

Xext, those dwelling in th' iles of the Echinades were 



106 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

led bj Meges, th' soniie of Pbyleus, a man whom Jove 
greatly loved. Tic fled from his sire to Dnliehinm. With 
him there were fortie sable shippes. 

Next came Ulysses, in connsell like a god. With him 
were twelve red shippes bearing th' Cephalenians and 
Ithicans; those dweling where lofty Neritos rises, upon 
whose sides th' leafie forests wave: or in rocky Crocylea; 
in ^Egilips, or Zacynthiis' gTeene isle. 

Then one might see the ^Etolians from Plenron, from 
chalkie Calydon, from rugged Pylene and that lofty 
Olenian rock, or pleasant sited Chalcis by th' sea. These 
Andrsemon's eldest — Thoas, brave and valiant — led, be- 
cause the sonnes of old ffineus were dead, (and GCneus as 
well). With these went fortie sable vessels. 

Close by them may you see Idomeneus leading th' 
Cretans, aided in the command by Meriones, equal to Mars, 
that in four score sable shipps came from Gnossus, Lyctus 
and Gortyna, from Rhytium, Miletus, Lycastus faire, 
Phaestus by the silver Jardan — from a hundred citties 
Crete fumisht a mighty force. 

From Isle Ehodes valiant Tlepolemus, Hercules' sonne, 
led nine fleet shippes. Those dwelling in fayrest lalysus, 
in Lindus, with those from. C/amirus. For Tlepolemus 
gTew up to manhood in th' court of his uncle, whither his 
owne captive mother, Astyochea, was carried from faiTe 
Epliyra, by the flowing Selleis; straightway, however, he 
having slain his olde uncle, Licymnius, fled to escape th' 
anger of his kinsmen, and gathering many that were o' 
bold adventurous spirrit, hee hasten'd (laboring both daye 
and nights) building his rude fleet to sail ore the deepe. 
And after many wanderings and misadventures, hee came 
unto Rhodes and possess'd th' land; where, dividing his 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. lOT 

followers into three tribes o^•er which he niled, he })rosper'(l 
greatly, Jove hiiiiselfe sending do^^'7le golden gifts. 

j^ext came Nireus, whom th' nymph Aglsea bore to bold 
( ^haropus. He was the fairest of all th' Greekes who came 
to Ilion (excepting th' sonne of Thetis) but his troops were 
few and weake. 

Next came thirty vessels from tli lies of Calydnaj, — 
from Cases, Nisyrus, Cos (th' eitty of Eurypyhis), — led on 
by Antiphus and brave Phidippus. 

Then fifty strong shippes, — from Argos, xVlos, sweet 
Hella, where are the fayrest o' women; th' vales of Phthia; 
from Trachyn and Alope, — were conmianded by Achilles. 
Now hee sitteth by the blacke shippes and will not come 
to the iield, because of Briseis, the maiden whom hee 
brought captive from Thebes after the wall was thrown 
downe and he had taken th' citty and slain th' sonnes of 
Evenus. 

Next came th' youths of Phylace, from sheep-producing 
Itona; from gTassie Ptelium; from flow'ry Pyrrhasus or 
Antrium, where th' caves are num'rous in those hills. 
These Protesilaus led not now^, for th' cold blacke ground 
covered him, and his wife is left alone in his unfinished 
pallace. Hee was th' first of th' Greekes who boldlie 
sprang to th' shore when Troy was reach'd, and fell beneath 
a Phrygian lance. Now his bones lie farre from his belov'd 
home, and the sonne o' Iphiclus, his brother Podarces, doth 
assume command ; but they mourne their lost leader. Their 
fleet numbered forty sable shippes. 

Those that dwelt in Glaphyra, — wdiere lieth Lake Bcebe 
with high hills surounded, and Phsere and lolcus stand, — 
with eleven sable shippes, were led by brave Eumelus, 
sonne of Alceste, who in beauty farre excell'd all others 
among Pelias' race. 



108 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

All those who from Methone came, or farre distant 
Thaumacia, where th' rock of Olizou doth rise; from grassy 
JVIeliboea and Pella, were commanded by Philoctetes, 
greatly fam'd for sldll with th' bowe. Fifty strong rowers 
mann'd each blacke shippe, (sev'n made up his little fleet) 
fighting with bowes made of eugh and barbed arrowes. 
Medon, sonne of Oileus, borne by faire Rhenc, led them 
to Ilion, because bold Philoctetes, whom a most banefull 
hydra had bitten, lay gToaning in Lemnos Isle; but the 
Grecian army shall yet desire him, and their wish shall 
be fulfiird. 

Th' G^chalians who enjoyed two leaders, — those divine 
physitians, th' sonnes of ^sculapius nam'd Podalirius and 
Machaon, — came from th' land where Eurytus once 
reig-ned, from tower'd Tricca or Ithome's rocks, in thirty 
shippes. 

Next Eurypylus led th' Ormenian and th' Asterian 
bands in forty vessels, from th' land where Titan hideth in 
snows his hoarie head, or where the silver founts of faire 
Hyperia flow. 

Then Polypoetes led forth th' troops of Argissa and 
Elone, — they that dwelt beneath Olympus' benigiiant 
shadowe; Gyrtone, or Orthe, or the chalky cHft's of 
Oloosson, Leonteus, with Pirithous' sonne, (that Hippo- 
dame bore when th' Centaurs were driven fro' Pelion) 
Polypoetes, joyned in th' commande. 

Then came th' Perrhaebians and th' Enians in two-and- 
twenty shippes. These Gyneus led from Cyphus, from cold 
Dodona's sacred wood, or where the Titaresius poured its 
black water over the Peneus; but they float on his surface 
nor mingle with that silverlike flood at anie time because 
black Styx, oath of immortall gods, sent them forth. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 109 

Last imde' swift-footed Prothoiis (Teuthredon's seede) 
stood the Magnesians, who dwelt beneath pine-crown'd 
Pelion; or where flower deckt Peneus roll'd his waters 
through Tempe's vale; or in that farre-reaching- snround- 
ing country. Forty shippes compos'd their fleet. 

Th' inquiiy "Which hero was bravest, and whose th' 
swiftest steeds?" is answer'd thus: Eumelus' mares of 
Pheres deriv'd, bred near Pierian founts and by Apollo 
train'd, equall in their height (by level o' th' plumb-line), 
like in colour, as th' wind in speede, like every wave: they 
thunder'd ore th' plain through Trojan ranks, bearing death 
to th' Troyans and all o' their allies. jSTone can ev'n hope 
to escape who fall beneath their hooves and are crush'd 
under their chariot wheels. Among th' warriours Ajax 
was th' worthiest. Of all the Greekes who came to Ilion, 
none equall'd Achilles while that hero was among th' hosts 
upon the fleld of battaile, but hee sat alone by his ship's 
side brooding angrilie over Briseis' losse nor would he enter 
the field. His Mynnidons practiced at archerie, or threw 
th' javelin or quoits, and the steeds by the unus'd chariots 
fed upon lotus, wilde parsley, etcaetera, while their chiefes, 
wandering through th' campe, longed for their leader, 
neythe' did they ayde in th' battell. 

They swept on like to earth-devouring fire and beneath 
them th' ground shook; (when Jove smiteth th' earth in 
Arimae by Typhosus, where it is said Typhoeus' tomb is 
found, even thus doth the ground tremble and shake;) and 
verie swiftlie they rushed along th' plaine. 

But Jove sent Iris as a messenger to th' Trojans, whom 
she found sitting in couneill, both olde men and young at 
th' gates of Troy; and likening herself e to Priam's sonne 
Polites, who relying on th' swiftnesse of his feete, sat at 



110 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

watch upon the tomb o' /Esyetus, observing every move- 
ment of th' Greeks that hee might warne miglitie Troy 
of danger, standing in their midst, (liken'd to Polites,) Iris 
address'd them, saying: 

"Why sit ye talking idly at th' gates? Prepare your- 
selves for battaile for th' Oreekes are close at hand, in 
number as th' leaves of th' forest or th' sands upon th' 
shore. Never such an host have I yet scene. Hector, it 
is to you T would speake: hasten to amie Troyes boldest 
warriours and her allies, and let every chiefe command 
those o' his owue countrie, for many and diverse are th' 
nations and language, but do you lead forth Troies citizens.'' 

Then all th' Trojans rusht to arras. Hector knouang 
well th' voyce of th' goddesse obey'd all th' commands. 
Like a floode-tide they poured forth from th' gates, 
gath'ring by nations and tribes, round that loftie mound 
in the plain, by all men call'd Batiea, but by immortalls 
known as old Myrinna's tombe. 

Then did appeare th' waving plume on Hector's crest, 
higher then all those of his fellowes, as hee led forth th' 
valiant sonnes of Troy, for hee was th' mightiest of the 
heroicke sonnes sprang from old Priam. 

The leader of the valiante allies from Dardania was 
brave ^neas, half divine in his origin. Fayre Venus 
bore him to Anchises (who was but a raortall) upon Mount 
Ida. Joyned with him in command are Anteuor's sonnes, 
Archilochus and Acamas, skill'd in all kinds of derring-do. 

From Zeleia came Pandarus, sonne to Lycaon, to whom 
Apollo gave th' silver bowe and well pointed shafts that 
he 'bore. All these dwelt 'neath sacred Mount Ida, and 
drank 3]sepus' dark waters. 

Those who dwelt under th' brow of that loftie bight 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. Ill 

Tereia, or in towered Adrestse, faire Pityea or Apaesus, 
were led forth by Adrastus and Amphius, sonnes of Per- 
cosian Merops, who being a prophet had foretold each 
doom; but a fate of death iirg'd them to their destniction. 

Asiiis, HjTtacus' valiant sonne, led those who dwelt 
in th' plains of Percote by silve' flowing Practius; or those 
faire twins of Hellespontns — Sestos and lovely Abydos; in 
strong-wall'd Arisbe, by flowing Selleis. 

The Pelasgians (much skill'd in th' use of th' spear), 
who inhabited fertile Larissa, were led by th' valiant 
sonnes of Lethus, from god Mars descended, Ilippotholls 
and bold Pylseus. 

Next bleak Thracia, near th' Hellespontns, sent forth 
her warriours, led by bold Acamus and brave Piroiis. 

Then th' sonne to mighty Troezenus, grandsonne to 
Ceas, Euphemus, a warlike host led forth from Cicone. 

And Pyra?ehmes led the Pfieonians, who were skill'd 
in th' use of th' thong-fastened, long darts. These dwelt 
in distant Amidon, where th' Axius overfloweth his banks. 

Th' Paphlagonians, — from that mule-raising Eneti and 
Erythine's rockie heights; from greene Cytora, lofty Sesa- 
mus; from ^Egialus and Cromna, or fast by Parthenius' 
banks, — these were commanded by powerfull Pylaemenes. 

Then from th' famed mines of Halizonia, rich in silver 
ores, came a brave bande under Hodius and Epistrophus. 

Next Chromis led Mysia's valiant host, aided by th' 
augur Ennomus; but skill in this art avail'd not to pre- 
vent his death, for he, mth a number of others, perish'd 
by th' sword of Achilles at th' river. 

Then Phorcys and god-like Ascanius led forth th' war- 
riours from Ascania, (who were also called Phrygians) 
eagerly desiring warre. 



112 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Following these came the Mseonians, whom Mesthles 
and Antiphus — borne by Lake Gjgsea to Tala^maeneus — 
did command. These dwelt beneath Mount Tmoliis. 

The Caiiaiis that dwelt in Pethiri, in Mjcale or well- 
built Miletus, were led by Nastes and Amphimachus, the 
sonnes of Nomion, who foolish went to battaile deckt forth 
like a girl in glittering gold, nor did this avert bitter death, 
tfor hee fell at th' hand of th' sonne of ^Eacus and his 
body fell into the rive'; yet did swifte Achilles taking his 
armor possesse it as a trophie. 

Sarpedon joyn'd with Glaucus, the valiant, commanded 
those that dwelt where the eddiing Xanthus flowed through 
Lycia afarre. 

III. 

When therefore tliey were well order'd in battaile 
array, th' Troyans rusht to meet th' foe with tmnult and 
noyse, such as cranes make in Asian fields by th' water 
streams, wdien th' intolerable winter is over, and flight to 
other climes is arrang'd, to bear death and evill to th' 
Pygmean men; but the Oreekes, breathing might, swept 
onw^ard in silence, desiring to assist each other. 

Then as a thicke mist on th' mountain toppes, evill 
to the shepheards, but to th' robber better farre then 
night, — so thicke tliat one can see but a stones-throwe, — 
thus did th' dust arise above their heads, so swiftly did 
they sweepe on ove' th' sandy plaine. 

When however having quickly crossed the plain tJi' 
armies were oppos'd to one another, Alexander advanc'd 
before the Troyans, bearing on his shoulders a panther's 
hide and a bended bowe, and wearing a sword, while in his 
hands hee brandisht two brasse-tipt spears, challenging 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 113 

whoever was tli' bravest of th' Greekes to meet him in 
single combat. 

Then Menelaus rejoyc'd, (as a lion that doth finde an 
huge wild goate or homed stag which, though pursued 
by hunters and hounds, hee greedily devoureth) thinking 
to be aveng'd upon th' guilty wretch, and straightway with 
his arms he leapt to th' ground. 

Then godlike Alexander turn'd white with palsying 
feare; and, as one upon th' mountayn side, seeing in th' 
thicket a glitt'ring serpent, affrighted yieldeth place and 
a great trembling doth take hold upon him, so Alexander, 
appall'd before Atrides, shrank back againe to the mightie 
hosts of th' Troyans. 

But when Hector saw this he violently upbraided him 
thus: "Thou woman seducer, would that thou had never 
beene brought into light, or that unwedded thou had per- 
isht. As thou hast a noble forme, the long-haired Achae- 
ans may laugh at this, for doubtlesslie they suppos'd thee 
brave, when thou hast neithe' heart nor anie nerve, but 
art indeed onely a disgrace to thy father, to thj^ city, and 
also to thyselfe. If thou had onely awaited Menelaus, 
thou shouldst know indeed how brave a man is hee whose 
wedded wife thou dost possesse. Troyan men, forsooth, are 
pusillanimous, else should they stone thee on aecompte of 
th' evils that thou hast done." 

But Alexander replied thus: "Since thy reproof is not 
unjust, O my brother, whose spirit is indubitate (for as 
the ax cleaveth wood when driven by vigorous blowes, and 
doth also increase greatly th' strength of th' arme that dotli 
wield it, even so thy dauntlesse heart is ever mighty in 
thy breast), and it is on my accompt that so many Trojans 
suffer, commando that both the x^chgeans and Trojans be 



114 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Heated, on this side and that, and in th' midst will I contend 
with Atrides; and hee that shall bee victorious shall pos- 
sesse both the woman and the treasure." 

Thereupon, holding in his right hand a mightie speare, 
Hector advanced before th' Trojan lines; and the Argives, 
beholdi'g him, made ready darts and stones to hurle at 
him. But seeing this, Agamemnon restrained them say- 
ing: "Withhold^ ye Argives, and all ye othe' mightie war- 
riours! See ye not helm- tossing llector is come to propose 
something?" 

Whereupon Hector made his purpose knowne, and all 
rejoye'd because they thought th' end of th' warre was 
ncare. 

Then Menelaus said: "O magnanimous Agamemnon, 
and ye valiant Achaeans and Trojans, hear me, for this 
doth conceme me above all others: let this be done a.s 
Hector hath said, and to whichsoever the fate of death may 
come, it is well; and hee that hath the victorie over th' 
other, let him receyve th' rewards. But before this bee 
done, separate th' Acha3ans and th' Trojans, and let lambs 
bee brought — a white one and a blacke — for the Earth 
and th' Sunne, and do you also send a herald to th' shippes 
to bring one which shall be offer'd unto Jove. Further- 
more do ye bring the might of Priam, that hee may make 
this league, for all his sonnes are faithlesse, and where an 
old man is, there is wisedom — there also is justice and 
truth; for an old man looketh both forward and backe, and 
his judgement is just as it concerneth each party." 

Then th' horse was sodainlie reined backe to the foote, 
and th' warnours, dismounting, threw their amies on th' 
ground and sat downe. 

But Hector straightway sent forth two heralds to bring 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 115 

the lambs and to take th' message to Priam. Nor did 
Atrides disregard th' command of his brother, for he 
immediately dispatched Talthybius to th' shippes for th' 
lamb, tO' offer unto Jove; and hee did not disobey Atrides. 

Then Iris hastening to seeke Helen, likened her3elfe to 
Laodice fayrest daughter o' Priam, the wife of King Heli- 
caon, Antenor's sonne. And she found her, — weaving a 
beautifull web for mantles, of double tissue, rich and 
resplendent, and on it many labours of the horse-training 
Troyans and of th' well-greaved Greekes, that on her 
accompte they endured, — and thus addrest her: 

"Come see the mightie deeds of th' horse-training Troy- 
ans, with th' brazen-mayl'd Greekes, in th' warre. Their 
armes lie upon th' ground, and conflict hath now ceased, 
for Mars-beloved Menelaus and Alexander are to contend 
in th' midst, and thou shalt bee call'd th' dear wife of him 
who doth conquer." 

Thus did the goddesse fill her niinde with a desire to 
see Menelaus and her kindred, and to returne to her former 
home. Letting fall a tende' tear, she hastily envelop'd 
herselfe in white robes, and with two mayds, (Ethra and 
large-eyed Clymene, rusht forth to th' Scaean gates where 
sate Priam and Panthoiis, Thymrptes and Lampus, Clytius 
and Hicetaon (offspring of Mars) with Ucalegon and 
Anthenor, once mighty warriours but long since unable for 
the field because of old age: however, they were good in 
oratory, like unto the CieadiP of th' woods, having good 
voyces. 

"When therefore these looking up beheld faire Helen 
approaching, they spake hurriedly in low tones: "I hold 
it noe indignity that Trojans and Greekes spend soe much 
labour, loose soe many lives for Helen's sake, — so faire a 



116 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

ladle's sake. For her was this | warre] well undertaken, 
worthely prolong-'d. Yet, although all this hoc true, and 
though she bee a woman of such excellent feature and 
stature, as if she were a goddesse, let her returne in the 
shippes, lest she be more grievous to us, and a perpetuall 
disgrace to ourselves and our children." 

But Priam call'd her to him saying: "Come here, dear 
daughter, and sitting here beside me, thou maist looke upon 
thy fonncr spouse, and on thy kinsmen and friends. Thou 
canst doubtlesse name for me this tall hero. So gracefull 
and so venerable have I neve' yet scene, and he is, indeede, 
a very kingly man," 

Helen, most divine of women, answer'd: "Belov'd and 
revered father-in-law, I would that an evill death had pleas'd 
ine, when I came here \Aath thine eage' sonne, leaving my 
home and countrie, my brothers, my belov'd daughte', and 
my companions equall in rank. But such a fate was not 
mine: T therefore pine away with weeping. Yet will I 
name for thee this hero. It is Agamemnon, Atreus' sonne, 
great both as a mighty warriour and as a good king. More- 
over he Avas brother-in-law of shameless me, if evei' indeede 
such things were." 

Then Priam answered, still admiring Agamemnon: 
*'0 happie prince, most fortunate in thy birth, truely manie 
Achaean youths are under thy command. When I came 
into Phrygia, and beheld th' forces of Otreus and god-like 
Mygdon, by the Sangariiis standing beside their horses, 
going out against those Juan-opposing Amazons (for I was 
an ally in that warre) a number almost numberlesse seemed 
that host; but not so numerous were even they, as these 
Greekes." 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. lit 

Next perceaving Ulysses, the old man said: ''Noav 
name this hero, my dear daughter, whose arms lie on th' 
gTound, while, as a thick-fleec'd aries 'midst th' flocke of 
snowy sheepe, he windeth in and out among the troopes. 
Not so tall is hee as Atrides, but broader in shoulder. 1 
indeed would say that hee was like such a ram." 

And Helen, sprung from heaven-ruling Jove, replied: 
"Now this againe is Laertes' sonne, scheming Ulysses, fi'om 
rugged Ithica, verie subtile in reason, like unto the gods 
in counsell." 

To her Anthenor said : "Very true is thy word, O lady, 
for long ago he came in companie with most noble Menelaus, 
Mars-belov'd, on an embassage concerning thee unto Troy; 
and I entertayn'd them in my palace and became acquainted 
with th' genius of both. When they mingled with tli' 
Trojans, Menelaus, indeed, overtopt him, being taller; but 
sitting, hee was more majesticke, for he was broader in th' 
shoulders. But when they commenced to harangue the 
assembly, Menelaus spake with ease and volubly, as hee 
was the younger; but Ulysses, looking on th' ground, stood 
with his heavy scepter in his motionlesse hand, and appear'd 
both unskilful! in his outward actions and devoid of reason. 
But when hee began to speake, and words like wintry flakes 
fell from liis lippes, we marvail'd noe longer at th' appear- 
ance of Ulysses but at his words." 

Then having beheld Ajax, th' old man asked: "Who 
is this other Achaean hero in th' host, taller by th' head 
and broad shoulders, thou seest, then anie of his com- 
panions?" 

And Helen answer'd: "This then is Ajax, the bulwarke 
of th' Achseans, very mighty in battaile: and over on the 
other side, among the Cretans, standeth Idomeneus, like 



118 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACOK. 

to a god, while round about him stand the many leaders of 
the Cretans. Often have I .-^een him formerly in pleasant, 
sea-wall'd Lacedaemon, when in our palace Mars-beloved 
Menelaus entertained him comming from Greet. But two 
valiant heroes, leaders of th' people, I see not, — horse- 
trayuing Castor, and Pollux, skilled in boxing, — my broth- 
ers, whom my mother at a single birth brought forth with 
me. Eyther they have not followed from Lacedaemon in 
the sea-traversing vessells, or having come, they enter not 
into the warre because of th' disgraces that hang over me." 

But already th' fruitfull earth possessed them in farre 
distant Lacedaemon, yet of this she was ignorant. 

Within the citty th' herald Idaeus brought two golden 
goblets and th' wine, the pledge of the gods; and standing 
by Priam said to him: 

"The chiefes of th' horse^trayning Trojans, and of th' 
brazen-mayl'd Greekes, send for thee that thou thyselfe 
maist strike the league betweene them. For Alexander is 
about to fight wath Menelaus, beloved of Mars; and th' 
woman with all th' treasure should attend upon th' con- 
querour, but the other Trojans should dwell in fertile Troy, 
and th' Greekes returne to pastorall Argos, and Achaia, 
fam'd because of many fayre dames." 

Thus he spake, and th' old man shudder'd ; but he order'd 
his chariot quickly to bee prepar'd, then mounting hastilie, 
drew backe the reines: but Anthenor tooke place beside him, 
and very swiftly did they passe over the plaine, and come 
betweene Trojans and Greekes. 

Whereupon Agamemnon uprose, with Ulysses also, and 
the heralds brought forth the pledges of the gods. Then 
Atrides drew th' dagger at his side, cut olf the haire from 
the foreheads of th' lambs, distributed it 'mongst them all. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. lid 

and stretching forth his hands to Jove thus prayed aloud: 

"Most mighty JoA^e, and sunne, earth, rivers, and those 
belowe punishing the soules o' men who are deceased — they 
that have swome falsely — beare witnesse to preserve the 
faithfull league. If, on th' one hand, Alexander slay 
Menelaus, let him from thenceforth retayne Helen and all 
which she did possesse; and let the Argives returne in the 
sea-traversing shippes. If, on the other liande, golden- 
haired Menelaus shall conquer Alexande', then shall the 
Trojans delive' Hellen and all her treasure, and they shall 
also pay a fine such as may seeme just, wliich may bee 
approv'd of all posterity. But if, in th' event of Alexan- 
der's fall, Priam or the sonnes of Priam refuse to paie the 
fine, then shall I fight on accompte of th' fine, and remaine 
untill I find th' end of the warre." 

With these words Agamemnon cut the throats of the 
lambs, bending back their necks; also they poured out wine 
from th' goblets, and some one of the (xreekes or Trojans 
praied aloud thus: 

"O Jove, most mighty, most glorious, and all ye othe' 
immortall gods, ratify this league; and should anie man, 
Greeke or Trojan, violate his oath, may his bloud, like this 
wine, be poured out, and grant that his wife may be 
possessed by other men." 

Thus were th' praiers ofier'd, but th' sonne of Saturne 
would not heede. Then Priam spake: 

"I cannot by anie meanes endure, ye Trojans, and ye 
silver-greaved Greekes, to behold the conflict betweene my 
dear sonne and Mars-beloved Menelaus, therefore will I 
returne to windie Troy; for surely th' immortal gods all 
knowe to whom th' fate of gloomy death hath now beene 
ordained." 



120 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Thereupon he ascended his cliariot, and beside liiiii 
Anthenor mounted, and they returned to Illiuni. bearing' 
the lambes. 

Then god-like Hecto' and wise counseling Tlysses east 
the lots into a brazen helmet, and measured off the ground. 
But th' people supplicated the gods, stretching forth their 
hands, and thus some one of th' Greekes or Trojans prayed: 

"O father Jove, most glorious, most mighty, grant that 
whichever hath caused the ills we suffer, may enter the 
realme of Pluto, but let the rest of us dwell in safety under 
the faithfull league." 

Thus they spake, but helm-agitating Hector, looking 
backward, shook the helmet, and quickly th' lot of Paris 
leaped out. 

Thereupon divine Alexande', th' husband of goldene- 
lock'd Helen, prepared himselfe for th' combate. First, 
putting on his beautifull gTeaves, he fasten'd them with th' 
silve' claspes; then round his brest buckled th' coi-slet of 
his brothe' Lycaon, for it fitted him: next he threw his 
brazen sword, studded with silver, together with the mas- 
sie shield, over his shoulder and grasp'd his doughty speare 
by th' middle. Soe likewise did Menelaus arme, and they 
immediately advanced toward each othe' from eyther side 
of th' throne into th' prescrib'd space, where they for a 
season stood glowering, and menacing each other so sorely 
that all th' Greekes and Trojans were amaz'd. Then 
Alexander first threw th' long-shadow'd speare, and it 
struck th' shield of Atrides but it pierc'd not th' strong 
brasse: the point however was turn'd by th' force of th' 
blow. Thereupon Atrides also made ready to hurl his 
speare, thus supplicating Jove: — 



ARaUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 121 

"O father JoA'e, hear this supplication. Grant that T 
soe avenge th' injury done unto niee, that to future gen- 
erations it may warn, men not to use treacherous dealings 
toward one who hath made them guests, entertayning them 
hospitably." 

So praying hee hurl'd his speare; and that impetuous 
weapon going through th' equal shield, pierc'd through his 
corslet and the soft tunicke beneath to his tender thigh: 
but hee bending sidewise avoided bitter death. 

Th' Sonne of Atreus then drew his richlie ornamented 
sword, and smote Alexander upon th' crest of his helmet 
so violently, that, broken into three or foure pieces, it fell 
on th' gTound. And the sonne of Atreus groaned aloud, 
looking toward Olympus, and cried: — 

"O balefull Jove, none is like unto thee. Ev'n as I 
thought to be avenged upon Paris, because o' th' wicked 
deedes hee hath done unto me, behold my speare hath sped 
from my hand in vaine, my strong sword is broken in 
pieces, and I have done him no injurie." 

Then rushing upon Alexander, he caught hold upon 
th' horsehair tuft on his helmet, and throwing him upon 
th' ground, would have swiftly drawne him to the Greekes 
if Venus had not scene it, who broke for Paris the oxhide 
[band] (made from th' skin of a roughlie slaughter'd 
animall), and left th' emptie helmet in his hand. This 
Atrides hurl'd to his companions 'mid th' ranks of th' 
Greekes, who taking it up rejoyc'd gTeatly, and ranne for- 
ward to seize him. But Venus rescued him, overshadowing 
him with a cloud, carried him to Troy, and gentlie set 
him down within th' perfum'd chamber. 

Th' goddesse then went in search of Helen, and finding 
her amid manie dames upon th' tower, liken'd herselfe 



122 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

to au ancient dame, a spinner of wool, that slie had long 
ago known. The old woman had often spun th' line wool 
when she dwelt in pleasant Lacedsemon, and Helen loved 
her. Therefore like this dame, fayre Venus st^ndeth at 
her side and thus accosteth her: — 

"Helen, come hither quickly, for Alexander is in his 
turned bed within his perfumed chamber, shining in beauty 
and attyre; nor wouldst thou say hee was come immediately 
from combate with a hero, but about to enter th' dance; 
or that having just return'd from the dance, he doth take 
repose," 

But Helen saw the white neck, beautifuU bosome, ami 
bright eyes flashing above her, and recognized th' goddesse; 
whereupon in vext tones she said: — 

"Cruell Venus, what wouldst thou that I should now 
doe? Belike thou wouldst have me go yet farther into 
Phrygia, or into pleasant Mseonia, where there may be 
citties inhabited by men that are also deare to thee. Or 
indeed is it that Menelaus having conquer'd Alexande', 
would faine bring hated me home, a reproacb to Trojan 
women evermoe? Go, leave th' path of th' gods upon 
faire Olympus; sit beside him, so may he choose thee for 
a consort, or make thee a handmayde unto him. But I, 
alas, shall have woes unto my soule." 

"With these words th' goddesse hastily replied, being- 
incensed against her: 

"Wretch, provoke me not, least I may hate as hereto- 
fore I have so wondrously loved thee, and least I might, 
abandoning thee, cause hatred to be rife among th' Trojans 
and th' Greekes. Then would an evil fate overtake thee." 

Thus th.' goddesse spake: while Jove-descended Helen, 
vvTapping her long white robes about her, went downe 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. t2S 

unnoted by tlie Trojan dames, because the goddesse led 
the waye. And when they were come into tli' lofty 
palace, th' maydes, on their part, turning aside return'd 
to their tasks; but Helen ascended to her liigh arch'd 
chamber: and the goddesse plac'd a seate for her opposite 
Alexander: there di^-ine Ilellen, th' daughter of .^gis 
bearing Jove, sat, averting her eyes, and addrest him 
thus : — 

"Thou art come from the field: would that thou had 
perisht there, slaine by th' hand of him I once call'd hus- 
band, — Menelaus that brave hero. I recall that frequentlie 
have I known o' thy boasting of thy superioritie in cour- 
age, strength, and handling th' speare. Challenge Mars- 
beloved Menelaus againe! But I would advise thee to 
refraine from combate henceforth, least thou bee subdued 
by th' speare of faire-haired Menelaus." 

But th' Sonne of Priam answering said: "Woman, 
reproach me not, nor agitate my soule with thy evill words. 
By th' ayde of Miner^^a now indeed hath Menelaus con- 
quer'd; but I in turn shall vanquish him, since th' gods are 
also with us. But come, let us delight in dalliance, for 
now doth sweet love fill my thoughts, even more then 
when I first brought thee away from pleasant Lacedsemon, 
when in th' island of Cranae wee were mingl'd in love. 
Come let us recline upon our couch." 

Thereupon he ascended his perforated couch, and Helen 
follow'd with him, and they repos'd together. 

Meanwhile Menelaus was raging up and downe among 
th' Trojans like some savage beast, seeking Alexander. 
But not one of th' Trojans could reveale his place of 
hiding;; for none of them would have avded him, because 



124 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

they hated him. like sable death. Whereupon [vin;2: Atrides 
thus address'd them: 

"Th' victorie appeareth indeede as belonging to Men- 
elaus, therefore shall ye deliver Helen and her treasure, 
and paie th' suitable fine which shall be remember'd by 
all our posterity." 

And all the other Greekes approv'd. 



IV. 



All the synod of th' gods was seated on the golden 
■floor with Jove. In the midst, pouring out Xectar, Hebe, 
the venerable goddesse, went to and fro; and they pledg'd 
each othe', drinking out of the goldene cups, looking 
toward the citty of th' Trojans. Jove meanwhile was 
incensing Juno, speaki'g with bittemesse thus: — 

"Two goddesses, indeede, favour Menelaus, Argive Juno 
with Minerva o' Alalcomenae. Yet both these sit apart 
looking on, while laughter-loving Venus even now rescued 
th' othe', cov'ring him with a cloud. But come, let us 
consulte whether wee will renew th' conflict, or promote 
th' friendship between both these parties; for th' victory 
belongeth to Menelaus as the matter doth now rest." 

But Juno was very angrie and thus addressed him: 

"Balefull Jove, sonne of mighty Satume, ever having 
delight in th' things which displease me, what a word is 
this that thou hast spoken! for now indeed wouldst thou 
render my labour vaine, which I have undergone assem- 
bling the hosts, — even tiring the steeds to perform my 
behests, and bring evills to Priam and his sonnes." 

To her Jove made replie: 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 125 

"Strange one ! What evills hath Priam done unto thee, 
that thou hast such hatred toward him? Fain wouldst 
thou, entering- his citty, devoure alive Priam and his sonnes, 
and the other Trojans, that thou might satiate thjselfe. 
If at any subsequent time I may desire to overthrow citties, 
where dwell men deare unto thee, seeke not to hold my 
hand, — for although gTeatly unwilling, I now freely yield 
unto thee, — least this be a cause of strife or contention 
betweene us. But the Trojans are most estim'd by me 
in my heart, for there my altars never lack'd a sacrifice or 
libation; for there these honours none omitted." 

And Juno answer'd: 

"Three citties are most dear unto mee, Argos, Sparta, 
and wide-wayed Mycense; whenever thou shalt desire to 
overthrowe these, I will by no meanes stay thee, for it 
is not meet that dissensio's and strife come betweene us. 
Whence thine origin thence is mine, and moreover I am 
tliy spouse; 1 therefore, being soe father'd and soe hus- 
banded, am A'ei"}' venerable, and thou rulest amongst th' 
immortalls. Let us then duely make concessions — I to 
thee and thou to mee. Send Minerva therefore to th' 
plaine and instruct her to incite th' Trojans, that they may 
first offer injury to th' widely renowu'd Greeks contrairie 
to the league." 

Thus she spake, and Jovo, father of gods, did not dis- 
obey. Instantly he summon'd Minerva and spake winged 
words to her thus: 

"Hasten to descend to the horse-breaking Trojans and 
the well-gTeav'd Greekes, and incite the Trojans first to 
offe' injury to Greekes, contran^ to th' league, that there 
may be renew'd conflict." 



126 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

And Minerva did not hesitate to obey, 
But, like th' starre Jove sendeth as a signe 
To mariners and sailors on th' deepe, 
And to the various nations of the earth, 
Emitting sparkes of light in her descent, 
Minerva quickly leaped into their ranks. 
Then, awe^strucke, one to other uttered this: 
"'Th' arbiter of all afaires belowe, 
Great Saturne's sonne, hath ordain'd bitter vvarre, 
Or doth establish friendship 'twixt th' Greekes 
And mightie Priam's hosts." 

Thus did tliey speake; 
But liken'd to Anthenor's mighty sonne, 
She sought brave Pandarus amidst the band 
That follow'd him from th' ^sepus' streams; 
And, standing near him, spake in winged words:— 

"Would thou now Pandaru', Lycaon's sonne, 
Lend eare unto th' counsells that I give, 
No longer would thy bowe, its strong cord slacke. 
Hang idly. Thou a bitter shaft wouldst aime 
At Menelaus, wnnning endlesse fame. 
And thanks and favoure, — golden gifts as rare 
As prince or king can oifer unto one 
Whom he delights to honour, — for indeed 
All Trojans would re Joyce, could they beholde 
Brave Menelaus laid upon th' pyle, 
Slaine by an an-ow from thy mighty bowe. 
Especially shall Paris' heart, be glad; 
No limit shall there be to gratitude. 
Nor to th' treasure in rich store for thee. 
Come now, I pray thee, send thy mighty shaft 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 127 

Into their midst, and vow unto Apollo 
A splendid hecatomb of firstling lambes." 

So saying, his im^thinking minde she wonne. 
In haste, straightway, his polisht bowe he tooke, 
That from the wild goat's branching horns was 

fashion'd. 
Once from the ambush on a mountayn side, 
Lying in wait, he saw that noble payre 
Proudlie uplifted, as th' bounding goat 
Emerged to the light. There clear he saw't 
Against the cavern's mouth, and taking aim, 
His winged shaft that square white breast did pierce, 
And on th' rocks supine the creature lay. 
These horns, polisht and golden tipt, became 
Th' bowe Lycaon's sonne, most masterfull, 
Did bend. Th' pointe he rested on th' ground, 
And from his quiver taking off the cappe, 
Fitted an arrowes notch unto th' cord. 
While, round about him, shields were closely rank'd 
By his companions, lest th' watclifull Greeks 
Espying him should take away his life. 
Ere martiall Menelaus should l)e slaine, — 
The leader brave of all the Grecian hosts. 

So Pandarus drew back the tough hide string 
Untill his hand did rest against his breast. 
While the shaftes barb nigh to the bowe was brought 
A moment, ere the impatient aiTow sped 
In swift flight thro' the campe, on deadlie quest. 

Ah! Menelaus, then thy hom'e had come. 
Had not blue-orbed Pallas at thy side 
Repell'd that shaft, pv'n as a watchfull mother 
Would brush a fly from her faire, sleeping child, 



128 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Minerva's hand th' sharpe pointe turn'd aside, 
And firme infixed in his girdle's elaspe. 
Its course thus silently and swiftly stayed, 
That wicked arrow little harm might worke. 
Yet did its pointe breake through th' tender skinne; 
And the white columns of those ivory thighs, 
Th' sturdy knees, and th' faire feete belowe, 
Were bath'd in blood, blaeke as th' sacred Styx. 
Then 'gau that heroes heart to quail with feare; 
But, looking downe, th' corde outside he saw, 
And once more gathered courage in his brest. 

When Agamemnon sawe that coal-blacke stream 
Gushing from out his martiall brother's side. 
Lamenting loud, Atrides' hand he grasp'd, 
And thus hee spake, and his companions nigh 
Lamented also: 

"My beloved brother, 
By this inglorious league thy doome I seal'd: 
Alone thou sufferest for all th' Greekes 
Through Trojan treacherie. But, even now, 
I see them with their wives and tender babes 
Paie with their lives a debt to righteous Jove; 
Already is his heavy hand outreach'd, — 
His lightnings quiv'ring, eager to fly forth, — 
And Priam and his citty shall lie low. 
But thou, alas, shalt rest in forraine soile, 
While wee retume, disgrac'd, to our faire land 
Beyond th' sea. For if, indeed, our leader 
Fall by th' hands of Trojans, or allies. 
All then will long for home and fatherland; 
And, leaving Argive Helen to our foes. 
In hastie flight will homeward turne our shippes. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 129 

Then will some one or other of that host, 

Leaping and dancing on thy tomb, speake thus: 

'O would, indeed, that Agamemnon ever 

Such vengeance wreak'd! Vainly his fleet he led 

Across th' seas, and now he hath retum'd 

In empty vessells, leaving Menelaus, 

That valiant hero, dead in Phrygia.' 

When this shall be, may then the gaping earth 

Ope wide to swallow me." 

But brave Atrides, 
Marking his brother's grief, spake hastilie: 
"Let not the Greeks see feare and sad distrust 
Goveme the motion of a kinglye eye: 
'No man, indeed, should have one throe of feares 
Lest hee, by showing it, his host dishearten. 
No feare have I of death, or thought of dying, 
For slight the wound must be. This well-wrought belt 
Of many colours blent hath stay'd this shafts; 
Th' pointe is turn'd ere reaching vitall parts." 

To him the chief e replied: "So may thy words 
Be true, th' gods preserve thy life for aye! 
But forthwith will we send unto Machaon, 
Th' Grecian hero ; he th' wound will probe 
And draw th' poyson'd shaft, with remedies 
Which Chiron gave to iEsculapius 
Relieve th' pain." 

He cal'd th' messenger, 
Talthybius, and said in winged words: 
"Haste thee, Talthybius, to seeke the sonne 
Of ^sculapius, divine Machaon, 
And bid him unto Menelaus haste, 



180 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Chief e of the Greekes, whom some one midst the bands 

Of Trojan archers, or of Lycian, — 

To whom 'tis glorie, but to ns a grieie, — 

Hath wounded with an arrow. Bid him come, 

And with some panacea ease the woimd." 

Talthybius straightway obey'd, and sought 
Divine Machaon 'midst th' eager hosts 
That throng'd him round. By him hee stood, and gave 
Th' message of imperial Agamemnon, 
Bidding him come with speed; then, turning, led 
His swift steps to Atrides, 'midst his ranks 
Of grie^dng souldiers. 

From the wound, with care, 
The bitter arrow this physitian drew, 
Yet were the barbes, as it was done, snapt off; 
Next hee th' embroider'd girdle's claspes undid, 
And well-wrought plate beneath, most tenderly. 
And in the wound did pourc a healing balme. 

Meanwhile, across th' plaine, the Trojan hostvS 
In warlike guise advancing, might bee seene. 
Then would you not surprise brave Agamemnon, 
iS^or see him hesitate nor sliunnc the fight; 
But hastening forth, hee bade Eurymedon, 
Th' Sonne of Ptolymaeus, to be nigh 
With steeds and chariot against a time 
That, wearied with the labors of the tield, 
Hee might gaine respite. Many hurried on; 
To these he spake swift words of cheer, thus saying: 

"Argives! remit not any of your ardor, 
For Jove will not of falsnesse bee th' abettor; 
The flesh of all false Trojans shall be food 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 131 

To cormorants. Ay, and their wives and children 

(Since they this solemne league did violate, 

And first did offer injury), for this, 

Shall hence within our sable shippes be borne, 

As we returne to our dear native land 

Triumphant conquerours. Then shal faire Troy, 

And all that mighty band, lie lowe i' th' dust." 

But when he found a soldier loytering, 
Or any that would shrink backe from the fight. 
To these in vving'd words spake he: "Arrow fighters, 
Why stand ye here like fawnes, which frighted runne 
Along th' plaine, then all disraaied stand gazing. 
As if there were noe heart within their brests? 
Will ye awaite untill these Trojan hosts 
Draw nigh with fire, and all the Rhetaean shore. 
Where lie your shippes, to ashes shall bee tum'd. 
That ye may knowe what is th' will of Jove, — 
Whether he over you will stretch an arm?" 

So through the hosts he pass'd, and came at 
length 
Where brave Idomeneus, like a wild boar 
Strong in his might, the Cretan bandes did lead, 
Oomanding in th' van; while in the reare. 
Where in close ranks they stood, Meriones 
The phalanxes urg'd on. Nigh him he paus'd 
While thus he said: 

"Thou brave Idomeneus, 
Most valiant art thou, ever in th' strife. 
And at the solemne feasts, to mee thy cup 
At all times standeth ready to be quaif'd. 
Would thou now prove it, hasten to th' field." 



1«2 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Tdomeneus replied: ''I have in tnith 
To thee, O Agamemnon, ever beene 
A most, congenial! friend and firme ally. 
And such I will to end of time bee found. 
But do thou haste to exhort th' othe' chiefes, since now 
A treacherous army of Troy's strongest forces. 
In violation of the league, approach, 
First having ofFer'd injury to thee." 

Mighty Atrides, much rejoyc'd in heart 
At words like these, hasten'd along the field; 
Soone nigh unto th' Ajaces he stood, 
And round about foot-souldiers, tall, were throng'd 
Most like a cloude, that oft the goatherd spieth, 
Dark as th' night, in pitchy masses roll'd 
Acrosse wild seas that it to fury lasheth; 
And shudd'ring deepe, he doth a cove' seek 
In cleft stone wall upon th' mountayne side, 
Where [he] himselfe and tender herd will lie. 
IJntill th' tempest cease. Like such a cloude. 
The phalanxes acrosse th' waste did move, 
With spears and shields that bristled like a wood. 
When these hee viewed, Atrides, standing nigh. 
Spake to them winged words, in heart rejoycing: 

"Ye Ajaces, to exhort you like the others, 
111 would become my state. Well do T know 
That ye your army urge unto th' fight. 
Exciting in each heart desire of glorie. 
Would, O great fathe' Jove, niler of earth. 
And thou Apollo and Minerva mighty, 
Such courage were in all ! Then might we see 
Priam's faire eittie bending to its ruin, 
And all its glorie levell'd in the dust." 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 183 

Heere ceas'd his speech, and lea\'iiig them still 
standing, 
Hee to the others joyously did passe. 
And l^estor soone approacht. The Pylian sire, 
Surrounded by th' other chiefes, hee found 
Exhorting eagerly these comrades nigh, 
To leade the hosts to the tumultuous hattaile. 
There might you note 'midst all the noble throng, 
Th' mighty Pelegon, with bold Chromius, 
Bias, who was th' shepheard of th' people, 
Alastor and Prince Hsemon, gather'd round 
To hear the sage, and mark how skilfullie 
His hosts hee marshalleth. Th' horsemen first. 
With their strong chariots shining with brasse 
Most brightly burnished, and pawing steeds; 
The sturdy foot, like solid wall of stone, 
Guarded th' reare; while i' their midst the cowherds 
Were held, that, by the rushing tide of warriours 
Resistlessly swept on unto the fray. 
They needes must mix with Troyans, and must fight 
Or bee cut down. Ha\^ng accomplisht this, 
The aged sire address'd them in swift wordcvs: 

"Let no man here, relying on the skill 
Hee hath in amies, rush singly in the thicke 
O' mightie conflict; rather let every man, 
K possible, extende his weapon forth, 
And with th' pointe his neighbour's chariot touch. 
For thus th' valiant men of former times, 
Against a foe in solide ranks, did moove 
And overtume the strongest phalanxes: 
Like these therefore go forth to victorie." 



134 Bl-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

So spake the aged man, long since well skill'd 
In conduct o' th' warres; to him Atrides: 

"Would, worthiest Nestor, that some other man 
This weight of yeares soe heavy might upbeare, 
And that thy strength might equall to the heart 
Within thy breast, since thus to thee o' late 
Old age hath come, common alike to all, 
And ever wearieth thee." 

Thus did he speake, 
And the Gerenian knight, old Nestor, said: 
" 'Twere well, indeed, if now I could again 
Th' might I had, when in my prime I slew 
One Eruthalion, feel in hands and arms. 
But never all their glorious giftes to men 
Doe th' gods at once bestow. If then, in youth 
And youthfull strength I gloried, now olde age 
In turn invadeth me. But, even now, 
I much desire to aide men with my counsel. 
And ever by the horsemen doe I stand. 
When, for th' conflict marshalling their steeds, 
I see them gather, but to younger men 
I leave th' shield and spear." 

Thus Nestor spake, 
And, hearing him, Atrides joyously 
To others went, addressing everj^ chief 
Most earnestlie. Next he Menestheus saw, 
A Sonne of Peteus, who 'midst th' Athenians 
Stood quietlie; by him crafty Ulysses, 
Encircled by the Cephallenians, 
Wee see, for they as yet no sound do hear 
Of dreadfu' battaile hurtling i' th' ayre. 
And waite the approach of other liosts, to lead 



ARGUMENT 05^ THfi ILIAD. 135 

Into its turmoil. Seeing them thus stand, 
The Sonne o' Atreus hastily approacht, 
Rebuking boldlie both his valiant chiefes — 
Speaking to them i' words which had swift wings: 

"Thou Sonne of Peteus and crafty Ulysses, 
Why stand ye idly waiting with your troops? 
Ye should be first, when Trojan hosts draw nigh, 
To rush headlong into the thick of battaile. 
Ye ever are th' foremost at th' feasts, — 
Th' first to be invited, when th' Greekes 
A banquet to their chieftains do prepare. 
For pleasant, then, ye find it to sit there; 
Th' meats suit well such tastes, and the sweet wines, 
'Tis your delight to quaff e." 

But stern Ulysses 
To him replying said: "O sonne o' Atreus, 
What foolish language, now, th' barrier 
Guarding thy mouth oreleapeth! for if thou wouldst 
At the battell once take note whatere I do, 
Thou wouldst not se Telemachus' bold sire 
Shrink fro' th' turbulent and noisy conflicte; 
For, ever in th' thick, when spears do bristle 
Like to a thomie wood, my strong arm findeth 
Work such as suites the might of sturdiest sinewes. 
But thou, Atrides, ever speakest rashlie." 

When Agamemnon thus knew of the anger 
That stirr'd in brave Ulysses' crafty minde, 
He hastily and smoothly spake, attempting 
A speech illy advised to retract. 
Smiling hee said: 

"I neyther would reproove, 
Nor ev'n exhort- thee, urging thee to fight, 



136 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

For well do I th' minde thou hast descry, 
And knowing- how thy friendly cou'sels ever 
Accord with mv owne tlionghts, and that thy judge- 
ment 
Doth crye i' th' top o' mine, in thee I rest, 
And pray th' gods t' render my rude words 
Vaine and unmeaning, if I spake not well. 
Of this at greater leasure will we speake 
After th' battaile." 

"With these words, Atrides 
Went to that band led by the sonne of Tydeus, 
Brave Diomed, with valiant Sthenelus, 
The Sonne of Capaneus. These standing near 
As they beside their polisht chariots 
Idly do wait, he, speaking swift reproof 
In words that mnged were, addrest them thus: 

"Why stand ye idly here, scanning the ranks 
If haply yee may find waye of escape? 
Not thus, O Diomed, thy valiant sire 
Olde Tydeus fought, as to mine ear report 
Of fonner warres hath told of his brave deeds — 
For him I never met, never beheld — 
But I have heard that he excell'd the bravest, 
And toyl'd with workes of wan'e far in th' van. 
Certaine I am, with god-like Polynices, 
Mycense he did enter, seeking ayde 
'Gainst Thebes to lead an expedition. 
Most eloquently did he supplicate. 
And urg'd them stronglie to beecome allies. 
That thus bee might obtaine, unto th' purpose. 
Auxiliaries renow'd and skil'd in fight. 
Had Jove withheld his unpropitious omens. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 187 

Many Mycenseans had joyn'd his ranks. 

But they retiring came to fayre Asopus, 

Rushie and greene. This nohle hero next 

Was sent upon a distant embassie. 

There, in the palace of Eteocles, 

Many Cadmeans at a feast were found; 

But nothing daunted by soe great a numbe', 

Th' valiant knight boldlie did challenge all, 

However many would with him co'tend. 

Mighty Minerva was so great a second 

That easily he did orecome his foes, 

And won in every contest. This enrag'd 

The proud Cadmean youths, goaders of steeds. 

And fifty of them, going slily forth, 

Prepar'd an ambuscade 'gainst his return. 

There were two leaders, Ma3on, th' brave sonne 

O' noble Hsemon, and bold Lycophontes, 

Sonne of Autophanus, foremost in fight, 

And last to leave the field. These Tydeus slew, 

Sparing not one save onely Hsemon's sonne; 

Thereby th' threat'ning portents of the gods 

Wiselie obeying, him alive he sav'd 

And sent him home. Such was ^Etolian Tydeus, 

But he begat a sonne, inferiour far 

In courage, though superior in counsell." 

Thus did he speake, and Diomed was still, 
So greatly did hee reverence the king. 

ISTot so the Sonne of Capaneus, renown'd, 
Who quicklie did reply: "Lie not, O sonne, 
To Atreus, the divine, since thou dost know 
The truth right well to speak, j^ever againe 
Compare us thus unto our ancestors. 



138 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

For we, indeed, doe rightlv boast to bee 
Far better; for we, too, the citadell 
Of seven-gated Thebes have overtum'd, 
Leading beneath the walls, that sacred are 
Unto the god of warre, far fewer troops: 
Their owiie infatuation was their mine. 
Therefore I say, nere place me in the ranks 
Of such men as our ancestors have beene." 

But Diomed, steraly regarding him, 
Address'd him thus: "O Stheuelus, mj friend, 
Sit thou down silent and obey mj words. 
'Tis surelie no reproach unto Atrides, 
Exhorting thus the Avell greav'd Greekes to fight. 
His shall the glorie be, the honour his. 
When sacred Ilium shall yeelded be: 
But, on the other hand, mourning and griefe 
Shall keepe with him their watch, if ere the Greekes 
Shall be cut off. 'Tis time, therefore, to be 
Fill'd with impiteous valour." 

Thus he spake, 
And leaped down upon the earth in haste 
From the high chariot, girded in armes. 
How dread the sound ! The stoutest heart might well 
Quake as it heard. 

^s in the ocean wide, 
A driving wind from the ]S[orth-west comes forth 
With force resistlesse, and the swelling waves 
Succeed so fast that scarce an eye may see 
Where one in pain doth bring another forth, 
Till, on the rockie shore resounding loud. 
They spit forth foam white as the mountaine snows. 
And break themselves upon the orejutting rocks — 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 18& 

Thus, mightily, the Grecian phalanxes 

Incessantly mov'd onward to th' battaile. 

It might not then be said, that anie man 

Possessed power of human speech or thought, 

So silentlie did they their leaders follow 

In reverentiall awe. Each chief commanded 

The troops that came with him — each led his owne — 

Glitt'ring in arms, bright, shining as th' sunne 

While in well order'd phalanxes they mov'd. 

Th' Trojan hosts were like unto a flocke, 
Close in a penne folded at fall of night. 
That bleating looke th' waye their young ones went, 
And fill th' ayre with dire confusion — 
Such was the noyse amongst the Trojan hosts. 
No two gave utterance to the same crye. 
So various were the nations and the countries 
From which they came. Mars these incited forth, 
Minerva those inspir'd, with Terror dread, 
And Rout; and Strife — the sister untO' Mars, 
Th' homicide — she goeth on the ground 
And yet doth hide her head in mistie clouds, 
And while along the plaine they madly haste, 
She casts amongst them wild contention. 

Like wintry mountaine torrent roaring loud 
That frightes th' shepheard, in th' deepe raidne 
Mixing th' floods tumultuously that poure 
From forth an hundred gushing springs at once, 
Thus did the deaf'ning battaile din arise, 
When meeting in one place with direfull force. 
In tumult and alarums, th' armies joyn'd. 
Then might of warriour met an equall might; 
Shields clasht on shields, th' brazen spear on spear, 



140 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

While dying groans mixt wnth the battaile cry 
In awesome sound; and steedes were fetlock deepe 
In blood, fast flowing, as th' armies met, 

Antilochus first slew Echepolus. 
Upon th' horsehair crested helmet of the Trojan, 
Th' mighty speare struck such a deadly blow, 
It pierced through th' well wrought plates of brasse, 
And deepe within his forehead was infixed. 
Now sodainely blacke death oreshadowes him, 
And like a tower he falleth in th' dust, 
In that fierce conflicte. Elephenor then, 
Chief of th' most magnanimous Abantes, 
Seeing him fall, in all swift haste proceeded 
To drag him forth and of his armes despoyle him. 
But this Agenor, th' magnanimous, descrying. 
Aimed at him with skill his heavie beam, 
Ev'n as the hero, bending down, reveal'd 
His side unguarded 'neath his brazen shield. 
At once the limbes relax'd, and falling down, 
In groans he breathed out his heavie soule. 
Then rose most dreadfull conflict 'mongst the foes — 
Trojan 'gainst Greek, and Greek 'gainst Trojan rush'd, 
As they had beene the wild w^olves of the forest, 
And each bore down his man. Then mightie Ajax, 
Sonne to brave Telamon, smote Simoisius, 
Th' faire young sonne of bold Anthemio', 
When, formerlie, his mother (following 
Her honor'd sire) descended downe Mount Ida, 
To beare her parents companie as they view'd 
Th' assembl'd flocks, there on the flow'ry banks 
Of Simois did she bring forth this sonne. 
And for that cause him Simoisius nam'd. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 141 

But nere could he repay th' tender care 
Lavisli'd on him, for Ajax saw his forme 
As he advanc'd, and smote him with his speare. 
Straight at his brest hee sent that heavie beam 
And pierc'd him through: th' sharpe point might bee 

seene 
Protruding from his shoulder. Now he lieth 
Low in th' dust, like some faire poplare tree, 
Whose branches smooth that grow upon th' toppe, 
Th' chariot builder lops and fairly trimms 
For felloes to a royal chariot wheel: 
Upon th' bankes it lies and slowly drieth. 
Thus high-borne Ajax did this princelie sonne 
Of brave Anthemion spoyle, though, to avenge him, 
A Sonne of Priam's — Antiphus, who wore 
Th' varied corselet — aim'd his brazen spear 
Full at his brest. But hee escap'd full light, 
While Leucus fell, friend to Laertes' sonne, 
Strucke in th' groyne. Ulysses, wroth thereat, 
Rusht through th' van, bending his wrathfull gaze 
Upon th' foe with threat of dreadfull death. 
The Trojans backe recoyl'd as he drew near. 
And, when he hurl'd his massive brazen spear, 
Th' foremost ranks broke in confusion; 
Ev'n Hector shrank from th' furie of his looke, 
l^one there could meet it: nor was it in vaine 
He threw his speare, since Priam's bastard sonne, 
Democoon of Abydus, was strucke, 
Who lately came fro' 'tending th' fleet mares 
Priam there kept. Th' sharpe pointe pierc'd his 

temple, 
And darkenesse veyl'd his eyes, as downe he fell. 



148 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Then rose a shout from all the Argive train 
As wildly on they prest in mad pursuite; 
Apollo at th' sight was sore displeas'd, — 
Greatly he grew in wrath, and looking downe 
From Pergamos, he shouted to th' Trojans: 

"Yee Trojan warriore, rouse yee to the fight, 
Nor yeeld th' battell to th' impiteous Greekes; 
Their flesh is not of stone, nor yet of brasse, 
Impenetrable to well-pointed .speares; 
J^or doth th' sonne of faire hair'd Thetis fight, 
Mighty Achilles, for at th' ships he sits 
Nursing his spleene." 

'Twas thus Apollo spake. 
Meantime, Tritonia' Pallas to th' Greekes 
Spake words of eheare, whenere she saw them flagging, 
That straight did rouse new courage in th' breast. 

But fate ensnar'd Diores in her toyles, 
Diores, sonne to Amarynceus brave, 
For with a jagged handstone was hee struck 
Upon the leg above the ancle joynt. 
Th' leader of th' Thracian warriours, Pirus, — 
Th' sonne of Imbrasus, who came from .Enos, — 
It was that hurl'd the swift impiteous stone, 
That, crushing bone and sinew at a blow, 
A wyde way made t' let forth living breath. 
So downe hee fell supine upon the sands 
And breathed forth his life. Yet Pirus stay'd uot; 
Hee still ran on and thrust him Avith his spear: 
Then all his bowels in his body brast, 
While darknesse vayl'd his eyes. 

zEtolian Thoas, 
With fury fierce and wild, then 'pon him fell, 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 143 

And, with the push of his sharp-pointed speare, 

So strong and hard strooke Pirus on the breast, 

It seized, as a vulture's evill beak, 

Upon his lungs. Then Thoas, hastily, 

Out of the gored wound the cruell speare 

Lightly doth snatch, and straightwaye his quick sword 

Out of his sheath hee drew, and smote him there 

And took away his life ; yet did hee not 

Of war-like amies despoyle the fallen hero, 

Because that, suddenlie, around him gather'd 

A Thracian band, that drove him. from his prize 

At point o' speare. Valiant and glorious 

He was, and strong of heart, yet must he yeeld 

Unto that hot and fierce repulse, for none. 

How brave soever, could withstand such force. 

Thus was th' Thracian leader, Pirus, slain. 

And likewise, lying low i' th' dust, we see 

Beside him that Epean leader brave, 

Diores, while full many more close by, 

Like fruitlesse seed, their lives around did strow. 

Then could not anie man behold that fight, 

And say the action was not glorious. 

Whether of those who at a distance stood 

With sharp spears fighting, and escap'd the blows, 

Or those who near at hand had yet not felt 

The piercing brasse, though in the fiercest strife, — 

Whom eage' Pallas leading by the hand 

Preserv'd from death, and skilfullie averted 

Th' violent darts: nor truly may one tell, 

How many Greek, how many Trojan knights, 

Stretch'd prone upon the earth, lay side by side 

Coldly embracing death. 



144 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

This work is hereafter persew'd after the originall 
modell, with the argument of the twentie following books 
given in this manner. The preceding verses, although more 
then a nmning note, were written as a supream effort of 
memorie, yet, also, with a desire — which was naturall — of 
making the work in some measure easier; for this reason 
also, much of book three, and the table of the commanders, 
doth appear in full, but not in the form which it hath in 
that early poeme. Your part is to seeke it out, and fitly 
joyne the fragments, to do which you doe not surely need 
furder instruction, but much patience and skill. 



In the fift book of this great poeme, will the exploits of 
Diomedes be related, who perform'd miracles of valour and 
even wounded Venus in the hand. And Mars likewise he 
drave roaring from the field, hui*t and \\Tathful, for both 
these imortals ayded the Trojans. But them mightie Dio- 
medes dreadeth not to engage in a liand to hand conflict, 
for Minerva render'd him both glorious and mightie, mak- 
ing his helmet and shield shine like a sommer starre, like- 
wise increasing the strength of his sinews and th' courage 
in his breast. 

First the two sonnes of Vulcan's blamelesse priest, 
Dares, rich and famous as well, Phegeus and Idaeus, skill'd 
in all sorts of battaile, nisht upon Diomed as he stood alone; 
but with his javelin, hee tlirust Phegeus downe and forc'd 
him out of his chariot. Then Tdaeus, fearing like harm, 
leapt downe from th' very beautifull chariot, nor stay'd to 
protect the body^ of his brother, whose fate he surely would 
at once bring upon himselfe, could he not escape. Vulcan, 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 145 

mov'd with compassio' to the old man, sav'd his sonne, cov- 
ering him with a thicke cloud. But when the Trojans saw 
the sonnes o' Dares, one slaine, the other in flight, all their 
hearts were discomforted. 

Thereupon Pallas Minerva, leading Mars gently from 
th' field, seated him upon gTassie Scamande', saying to him 
that 'twere much better should they leave th' battaile to th' 
Greekes and Trojans, that the wrath of Jove might be 
averted. Afterwards th' Greekes turn'd th' Trojans to 
flight, while each leader slew his man. Agamemnon, vio- 
lently hurling forth th' mighty spear, smote the leade' o' 
th' Halizonians, Hodius, that first did turn. Bet^veene th' 
shoulder blades that sharpe point enter'd, and pierc'd 
through his brest. With a crash he fell and his armes re- 
sounded loud. 

Then Idomeneus slew Phsestus, who came from fertile 
Tame, a sonne to Maeonian Borus. Him with his long 
lance he wounded in the shoulder, when as he was mount- 
ing his chariot. So downe he fell, and darknesse seiz'd 
him; Idomeneus' companions, his attendants, despoyl'd him 
of his armes. 

iSText Menelaus, sonne of Atreus, kill'd Scamandrius, the 
Sonne of Strophius, skill'd in the chase, an excellent marks- 
man. I^ow, indeed, cannot avail the ayd of arrow-rejoycing 
Diana, nor his skilful long-distance shots, because Menelaus, 
the sonne of Atreus, hurled at him his sharpe spear, and 
smote him so fiercely in the back that th' sharpe point 
pierc'd thorow his brest. So he fell prone, and his armes 
resounded loud. 

Meriones slew Phereclus, sonne to th' artist Harmon who 
was skill'd in all handicraft — for Minen^a lov'd him exceed- 
ing well. — 'Twas he who built those equall shippes for 



146 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Paris, th' source of woes and bane to all the Trojans, but 
most to himselfe, not knowing what w^as meant by the 
oracles of the gods. — Meiiones followed close, and, overtak- 
ing him, thrust the spear into his hip. Th' brazen pointe 
pass'd through beneath the bone, and penetrated th' bladder. 
Falling upon his knees with loud lamentings, he pass'd into 
the shadowes of death. 

Next Pedseus was overtaken by Meges. He was a nat- 
ural Sonne o' Antenor yet noble Theano rear'd him as care- 
fully as her own dear children, to gratifie th' heart of her 
husband. Him the spear-fam'd sonne of Phyleus, Meges, 
thrust through the back of the head with a spear, and the 
point found its way out under his tongue through the teeth: 
and low in the dust hee fell as he caught the cold head in 
his teeth. 

But Eurypylus, sonne to Evfpmon, kill'd Hvpsenor, 
Sonne to Dolopion, Vulcan's honoured priest; following 
him, hee smote him with the sword, cutting oif his heax^' 
hand which was red with gore. As it fell, bloud-red Death 
veyl'd his sight. 

Then no eye could distinguish the sonne o' Tydeus, to 
know to which army he belong'd. Like a mountaine tor- 
rent (that neyther bankos nor fences may keep from fair 
blooming fields) which, swolne greatly by th' rain-storms of 
fathe' Jove, tumultuously doth overflow the plaino, and 
overturne many workes the vigonrous youths have labour'd 
long to compleat, so Diomedes rusht along the plaiue dis- 
comfiting th' hosts of th' foe. Here, there, and everywhere, 
at once hee flew, and perform'd prodegys of valour. 

When, therefore, Pandarus saw him sweeping through 
the field and driving the Troyans before him, hee drew his 
crooked bow and aimed at him an arrowe, by which he 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 147 

thought to stay his course. The cruell arrowe sped forth so 
swiftlj that Diomedes could not avoid it. The shaft struck 
sharply upon his shoulder, piercing the corselet and coming* 
through on the other side. 

Seeing this Pandarus, rejoycing, exhorted his compan- 
ions to return, boasting that hee had wounded to the death 
one of the bravest of the Grreekes. But Diomedes approacht 
his chariot where th' sonne of Capaneus, Sthenelus, friend 
of his heart, remain'd with tli' magnificent chariot and 
steeds, and entreated him that he would leap down out of 
the chariot, and remove from the wound the deeply piercing 
arrow; for hee was anger'd because Pandarus declared he 
would not long behold th' glorious light of the sun. There- 
upon bold Sthenelus drew forth the arrow, and the blood 
spurted through th' twisted mayle. 

Then Diomedes prayed aloud to Pallas Minerva that she 
would ayde him in th' fight, if ever he or his sire, in former 
times, had beene aided by her. His prayer was heard, and 
granted. Minerva increast th' might of his soule and body 
many times more then their wont, and also made his eyes so 
clear that they could discerne gods and men, but injoyn'd 
upon him to injure no other save Yeiius should hee chance 
to meet her. Whereupon hee went forth at once, strong in 
the might Minerva bestow'd, resembling, indeed, a lion 
(that a heardsman slightlie grazing as he leaps over the 
courtyard, but in his fright injures no further) [which] re- 
joyces as he sees the sheep abandon'd, soe Diomedes, 
rejoyc'd in heart, mixt quickly with his foes, and slew so 
many that ^Eneas, in alarm, sought Lycaon's sonne, begging 
him to aim an arrow at th' warriour that was making such 
havocke among th' Trojans. 



148 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Both fear'd that he might be a god, angrie because their 
sacri-fices at times had been neglected. 

Paiidanis soone recognis'd him as Tydeiis' sonne, having 
seene his shield, the oblong helmett which hce wore, and 
observing his steeds. Yet was hee perswaded in his owiie 
minde it was not meerelie Tydides whom they fought, but 
that hee must bee ayded by some one of the immortalls, 
that, standing near, wrapt in a cloud about the head and 
shoulders, turned aside the shaft that otherwise would hit 
him; for he would not thinke that it was by any lack of 
skill on his part that both th' chieftaines — the sonne of 
Tydeus and Atreus' sonne — at whom he had aymed swift 
arrows, had escapt death, inasmuch as he saw blond gush- 
ing from th' wounds. 

Therefore hee regretted much that hee had not brought 
with him th' eleven richly ornamented chariots and the 
steeds which he had left at the palaces of his sire. In his 
discomfiture he vowed, that, returning to Lycia, he would 
break in pieces and caste into the fire th' crooked bo we, or 
the forfeit should bee his owne head. 

But ^Eneas reprov'd Pandarus, cheared up his heart, 
and stirred up his failing courage. Then together they bore 
down upon Diomed to take his life by force. Sthenelus, 
seeing them hast'ning on, urg'd Diomede to withdraw from 
such unequall conflict. Diomed did not falter, however, 
Minen'a had soe steel'd his heart. 

With loud threats, Lycaon's sonne ayra'd his spear at 
Diomedes but hurt him not. Then he, in turn, hurl'd his 
long lance at Pandarus, which passed through his mouth, 
coming out under his teeth; so downe he fell. Then he 
smote .Eneas so that he fell upon his knees, while darknesse 
vcyl'd his eyen. Then would heo, too, have perished, had 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 149 

not Venus rescued him and cover'd him in folds of her robe 
that no weapon could pierce. Thus was hee saved. 

Meantime th' magmficent chariot and steeds were taken 
to the Greekes by Sthenelus, who was not heedlesse of those 
strict commands that Diomedes laid upon him. But hee 
himselfe hastened to return to the reliefe of Diomed, who 
was pursewing laughter-loving Venus throvigh the crowd. 
In truth, he wounded her in th' hand, causing her great 
paine, so that she screamed aloud and cast her sonne downe 
againe. Thereupon Apollo cover'd him from sight bv 
casting over him a cloud. Ichor flowed from the wound — 
for they eat not bread nor drinke darke wine, therefore 
bloud doth not flow in their veines, and they are called 
immortalls. Iris seeing this, led Venus from the throng, 
and, finding Mars upon the side of the field, begg'd his 
steeds in order to take Venus to Olympus. Swiftly were 
they borne upwards, and Dione, mother of the goddesse, 
soothed her and wip'd away th' icho' gently, so that she 
was heal'd at once, while to fortifie Venu' spirits, she told 
of other immortalls that sufler'd paine because of mortal 
foes. First, Mars, who was imprisoned thirteen moneths; 
then Juno, who was wounded by a three-prong shaft; then 
Pluto, also. But she foretold a short life to Diomedes be- 
cause of his rashnesse, saying that no sonne should lisp th] 
name of father at his knee. 

But Juno and Minerva scofiing said t' Jove, trulie it 
could be only a scratch, which Venus had received while 
she caressed some dame among th' Greekes, whom she 
wish'd to bring away for th' Trojan chiefes, who were her 
principall charge, since she lov'd them dearly. 

Meanwhile Diomedes did not hesitate to attack xEneas, 
tho' conscious he would also strive with a god, because hee 



150 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

was shielded by Apollo. Thrice did he advance upo' him, 
and thrice hee was repell'd but as he approach'd for th' 
fourth time, menaci'g dreadfullie, the god reproved him 
and bade him desist, nor thinkc himselfe equall to th' gods. 
Thus he was forc'd to draw backe slightly. Then Apollo 
withdrew ^Eneas from th' fight, and, creating a phantom 
that resembled him, sent it to th' battaile; and round this 
the contest was renewed with terrible fur\'. 

Sitting upon Pergamos, Apollo exhorted Mars to rouse 
th' courage of the Trojans, which hee proceeded to do. 
Then Sarpedon addrest Hector recalling to his mind a boast 
that hee and his kindred, the sonnes of Priam, could unaid- 
ed defend th' citty, yet they affrighted were cowering like 
dogs before a lion. 

This reproach gnawed Hectors verie soule, and bran- 
dishing in his hands his sharpe speares, hee leaped downa 
and rusht forth rousing their ardor. But th' Greekes, 
awaiting in solide ranks their attacke, were not driven backe 
nor discomfited by the onslaught. 

Th' two Ajaces [and] Ulysses joyn'd Diomedes, inciting 
and haranguing them to hearten them for a ten-ible strug- 
gle. Like clouds about the summit of Olympus when 
Boreas sleei>eth, and all other windes having driven away 
th' soft and shadowy vapour are hushed, as these, calme, 
immovable, stood th' Greekes. 

Apollo in the meantime had sent ^-Eneas back to the 
held wholy restored, invigorated and endow'd with new 
powers. This greatly rejoyc'd th' Trojans, but they said 
not a word, nor asked a question, so great was the labor 
each waiTior — leader or souldier — had to perform. 

The Sonne o' Atreus slew a chiefe, who was ^Eneas' 
companion, ^neas kill'd two Greek youthes, sonnes of 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 151 

Diodes, descended from the River Alpheus, dwelling in 
Pherse. They were as two young lions with the dam, 
but they fell like lofty firs upon th' mountayne side. 
Menelaus seeing this pitied them, and hastened to avenge 
their death. Pressing fonvards through the van, shining 
in brasse, brandishing his spear, he stood; but Antilochus, 
th' Sonne of JSTestor, saw him and follow'd him to give 
him ayd, for he fear'd for th' shepheard of th' people, 
least they should bee disappointed of their hope. But 
seeing two heroes thus standing, ^neas, though an eager 
warriour, retreated. Then Agamemnon hurling with, his 
spear, slew a generall of th' Halizonians, and Antilochus 
hitting his charioteer on his elbow, causing those beautiful 
reines to droppe, ran on to drive the steeds to the Grreekes, 
and quickly return'd that he might protecte Agamenuion. 
Hector, beholding this, rushed on vociferating loudly, 
and beliind him the Trojan phalanxes follow'd. Mars and 
venerable Bellona, with tumultuous Din, were with 
Hector — the former sometimes pacing before him, some- 
times in th' rerewarde. Only th' dread presence of th' 
god could terrify Diomedes, w^hose course is stopt as by a 
mightie river; but addressing his companions, he exhorted 
them not to put their lives in jeopardie with a god, for 
'twould not avail ought. Then the Trojans advanc'd very 
near, and Hector slew^ Menesthes and Anchialus, both 
being in one chariot. And Amphius, who had come as 
an ally to Troy, was struck with a speare caste by Tela- 
monian Ajax. Falling, he made a crash: then illustrious 
Ajax hastened to him, set his heele on his body, and drew 
from the bloudy wound his brazen speare, but did not. 
possesse himselfe of any amioiir because of the many 
speares of the Trojans. 



162 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Thus they, on the one hand, tojl'd in conflict. Now 
fate urg'd on two doughtie heroes — sonne and grandesonne 
to King Jove — Sarpedon and Tlepolenms. These spake 
together, — Tlepolenms first addressing bravo Sarpedon, 
taunted the sonne of Jove with his unwarlike nature, ask- 
ing how he could suppose himselfe the sonne of Jove, while 
boastes of tli' deeds his mighty, lion-hearted sire in former 
times had accomplish'd, were ever mingl'd with his scoffs; 
recounting how Hercules had come to Illium, with onely 
few men in six vessells, and overturn'd the citty, widowing 
the streets, to recover the steedes which Laomedon still 
continued to withhold. 

Sarpedon, unable to refute the charge, himselfe most 
frankly admitted the defeate, yet cast th' blame upon 
Laomedon; but he on his owne part hence would send th' 
soule of Tlepolemus to steed-fam'd Pluto. 

Straightway both hurl'd their long speares at th' same 
instant. Sarpedon's enter'd th' neck, and darknesse veil'd 
the eyes. But the ashen speare of Tlepolemus penetrated 
the left thigh, grazing th' bone, so that he was overthrowne, 
but his father suffer' d him not to die. 

Then his companions draggM him aside, even while yet 
th' speare remained in th' member, and it gave him great 
sufferance. As hee was borne thence, Ulysses was uncer- 
taine whether 'twould bee wiser to folow Sarpedon and 
put an end to his life, or continue a slaughter of th' Lyciaus. 
Jove would not permit his sonne to be subdued under th' 
might}' spear of Ulysses, and Minerva persuaded th' minde 
of the hero to tume to th' latter. He slew Cceranus, Alcan- 
der, Chromius, Alastor, Noemo', Halius, and Ptytanis 
and would still have continued the work, had not Hector 
come forth in shine of brazen armour, bearing terror to 
th' Greeks. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 153 

But til' heart of Sarpeclon rejojcM, and qiiieklv he 
address'd Hector, begging- that hee would take him to 
Troj, sa^dng hee would die there rathe' then where he 
lay, if, indeed, he might neve' return to gladden his dear 
wife and infant sonne. Hector stay'd not, however, nor 
spake a word, so intent was he upon his quest, desiring 
onely to repell th' Greeks and take the lives of many. 

Then th' noble companions of Sarpedon remov'd him, 
carrying him to a beautiful beech tree of xEgis-bearing 
Jove, and Pelagon drew forth th' speare. Thereupon ani- 
mation left him and darknesse fell upon his eyes, but he 
reviv'd when Boreas breath'd over all th' place. 

Th' Greekes did not (on account of Hector and Mars) 
retire to th' shippes, nor would their rankes give waye, 
yet w^ere they compeU'd to yeeld ground. 

Th' question commeth here as to whom did Mars (with 
Hector) slay, and answer is thus made: Teuthras, th' 
knight Orestes, then ^tolian Trechus, with (Enomaus, 
Helenus of the race of QCnops, Oresibus of Hyla, neare 
Lake Cephissus, and by him dwelt other Boeotians who 
possess' d a rich country. 

But Juno now address'd Minerva, and said they should 
now come short of th' solemn promise made to Menelaus, 
did they permit destructive Mars longer to rage, and bade 
her devise some meanes to aide him. She, herselfe, sought 
her golden caparisoned steeds, and, in the meantime, vener- 
able Hebe speedily applied to th' chariot — to th' iron axle- 
tree on both sides — th' golden eight spok'd wheeles. Of 
these th' felloes were of gold imperishable, but the tires 
that rimmed them were all brasse; th' naves of silver; 
th' body was stretched on with gold and silver thongs; 
and from a double circula' rim there projected th' pole of 



154 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

silver, to which was fastened th' beauteous golden yoake, 
and here poytrells of gold were attach'd. But Juno 
brought th' steeds under th' yoake herself e, so eager was th' 
goddesse for conquest and th' battaile. 

Pallas jVlinen'a let fall upon th' floor o' her father 
Jove th' beautifully variegated embroydered robe which 
she wore, and hasten'd to put on. a tunick. The' round 
her shoulders she threw th' dreadfull fring'd ^Egis. On it 
appear'd plum'd Terror on all sides; thereon was mighty 
Fortitude; thereon also was chilling Pursuite; thereon 
was Strife; thereon was th' dreadfull Gorgonian head, dire, 
horrible, a portente of xEgis-bearing Jove. Likewise upon 
her head she donned her foure-crested, golden helmet, with 
spreading metall ridge, cquall to th' armour of a hundred 
citties. Finally she took in hand th' mighty speare she 
was wont to' wield, then she stept into her beautifull chariot; 
but Juno spurr'd on th' restlcs, pa\^ang steeds. Then 
Jove's faire Howres, which watch Olympus' gates, threw 
wide th' portals that they should goe through, and soone th' 
liighest summits of Olympus were gain'd, and Jove, apart 
from all th' others, was found there sitting. 

Eagerly Juno beg'd that she might drive Mars, th' 
frantick one, hither, who griev'd her with th' slaughte' of 
so many Greeks that she held dear, but pleas'd Apollo 
and Venus, who had let slip this god of warre. And hee 
was ready to gratify her wish, but bade her send Minerva 
rather then go herselfe. 

Thereupon the goddesses descended Olympus, passing- 
through th' space midwaye betweene the earth and that 
starrie heaven. At each leap th' steeds went as farre as 
th' eye can reach along the darkling ocean when gray 
mist doth lie over it. But when they reached Troy, where 



AJlGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 15^ 

th' river Simoi's and Scamander joyne, Juno unyok'd her 
steeds and shed a soft mist round them. Then th' River 
Simois afforded them ambrosial fodder. 

With stepi3es' like to timorous doves, the goddesses 
approach'd th' Greekes, that, as ravening lions or wild 
boares, stood in close array around Diomed. Likening her- 
selfe to Stentor, th' great-hearted and braze'-ton'd, who 
was accustom'd to shout as loud, indeed, as fiftie other 
men, Juno cried to them that 'twas _shame to them all 
that their hearts were but ill suited to bodies so admirable, 
and reminded them that when god-like Achilles was in the 
field, th' Troja's fought not farr from th' Dardan gates, 
because they fear'd his speare, but that they now ventur'd 
close upon the hollo^\'e shippes, farre away from the citty. 

Then blew-eyed Pallas hasten'd to Diomedes, and found 
him by th' side of his chariot, cooling the wound he had 
receiv'd from th' swift arrow Pandarus had aym'd at him, 
for th' moisture unde' his shield's wide band caus'd him 
great discomfort, and his hand was aweary. Then Minerva 
touch'd th' yoake of the steedes and said: 

"O little like himself e is the sonne Tydeus hath begotten ! 
Hee in very truth was but smal of stature, but a warriour; 
and though I would not suffer him at all times to fight, nor 
to nish furiously to the battaile, even when he went on an 
ambassage to Thebes, he still retain'd his courageous spirit, 
and strove with numerous Cadmea's, and easilie. conquer'd 
aJl, so powerfull an ally was I unto him. But thou art 
farre unlike Tydeus, and unworthy to bee call'd the sonne 
of such a man. For tho' I am constantlie inciteing thee 
against th' Trojans, and shielding [thee] from harm, eyther 
thou dost weary, or feare doth now dishearten thee." 

But unto her valiant Diomed in reply thus spake: 



156 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

"I know tliee well, O thou daughter of ^Egis-bearing; Jove, 
and I will plainly tell thee, nor seeke to conceale from 
thee, why I have left the fight. Neyther am I weery 
nor is my soule possest mth feare. Tliou, thy oa\'tj selfe, 
in sending me unto the battaile, injoyn'd on me to fight 
only against Venus and wound her with th' pointed spear, 
but to contend with no other immortall. Therefore have 
I retyr'd from the field, and have drawne away the othe' 
(ireekes also, because I perceive Mars dispensing now the 
battaile." 

To him blue-ey'd Minerva said: "Tydides, deare to my 
soule, neythe' neede thou in thy heart quaile before god 
Mars or any other of th' immortalls, so great an auxiliary 
am I unto thee. Then come nov»^, direct th' solid-hooved 
steeds against implacable Mars, and engage him in close 
combat, nor regard this phrensied and unnaturall pest — 
this weather-vane! For hee lately promis'd Juno and 
myselfe that he would aide th' Trojans no more, and would 
assist th' Greekes. But now, alas, he mixetli with th' 
Trojans and forgetteth all this." 

Thus did she speake, and laying hold upon his com- 
panion, Sthenelus, dragg'd him backeward. Leaping 
quickly downe, he yeelded th' place. Minerva straight- 
way, arous'd to fury, mounted the chariot and seized botb 
goade and reines, directing Diomede to encounter Mars, 
who had now slaine Periphas, bravest of th' ^Etolians. 
Then Pallas put on the helmet of Pluto (which caused 
her to bee invisible) that impiteous Mars might not see her. 

But he, espying Diomedes, left fallen Periphas and 
went against him. Leaning farre out over his reins, over 
th' yoake of his steeds he caste his brazen-headed speare. 
Yet Minerva caught it as it sped and turn'd it aside. As 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 157 

Diomed, however, sent forth his weapon, shee guided its 
course so that it penetrated the lower flank, where it was 
covered with th' girdle, but shee withdrew it at once. 
Then god Mars roared louder, much louder then any nine 
or ten thousand men when they joyne in strife of the 
battaile, that the Greekes and Trojans hearing th' bellow- 
ing were affrighted. Then as a haze appeareth when a 
hot ^vinde doth blowe for a long season, soe Mars ascending 
unto heav'n appear'd to Diomedes. Going to Oljonpus, 
and seating himselfe by his father Jove, hee shewed his 
woundes and wiped away th' immortall bloud, addressing 
words to Jove that were swift as wing'd aiTowes, com- 
plaining that hee in no wise restrain'd the daughter he had 
begotten, she that was the cause of continuall strife 
'mongst the other immortalls. But Jove reprov'd him 
sharply, saying that he was most hatefull of all Olympian 
gods, and inconstant above all the others; that he found 
discorde and warres ever most gratefull, and possess'd th' 
insufferable, unbending disposition of his mother, Juno. 
In truth hee beleeved that had Juno not led him on, hee 
had not suffer'd thus; yet owned that Mars' paine so 
griev'd his owns heart that he could not endure it, inasmuch 
as Mars was his sonne, but said t' him that had he, being 
so destructive, beene the soime of other immortalls, long 
since would his place have beene lower then that of the 
sonnes of Uranus. 

Thus saying, Jove straightway commanded Pgeon to 
heale him, which hee proceeded to doe, applying remedies, 
for hee was not mortall. As when the juices of the figge- 
tree stirr'd into milke quicklie cruddle it, the remedies 
quickly heal'd th' woundes of impiteous Mars. Hebe 
Avashed him and decked him in beauteous robes. Then, 
exulting in glory, he sat downe by Satumian Jove. 



158 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Whereupon Juno and that great assista't Minerva, hav- 
ing stay'd from dreadfull deeds of death, ^fars, the man- 
slayer, retum'd to the pallace of mighty Jove. 



VI. 



And now th' dread battaile of Trojans and Greekes 
was abandon'd by th' gods, and victory sway'd most clearly 
to the Greekes. 

Helenus counsel I'd Hector to give order that all meet 
together to make supplication in the citadell to Minerva — 
i. e., the Trojan dames and the old men unable t' mLxe 
with th' warriours — instructing Hecuba, mother to both, 
that an embroder'd robe be presented to th' goddess, and 
twelve yereling heyfers be promist in sacrifice. Hector 
therefore leapt downe from his chariot, and brandishing 
his speares, went throughout the anny inciting th' hosts, 
urging them into the thicke of the conflicte, avowing 
what was his mission to th' citty. No soono' was he thus 
gone to Troy, then Tydides and Glaucus met face to face 
eager to fight, but first Tydides, inquiring, ask'd th' name 
and lineage of his opposer: thereupon Glaucus replied hee 
was well-descended, and in giving his gonealogie, told th' 
sad tale o' Bellerophon, sonne of Prcetus, sent into farre- 
distant lands by that deluded syre, at the request of his 
false-hearted wife — th' young man's stepp-mother — who, 
failing in her desigiie of seduction, hated him as much as 
she had loved him — untill so fayling. Whereupon, being 
sent with secret \mting to the king of Lycia, he was (th' 
space of nine dales) much attended and honour'd as a guest, 
and Sonne t' Prcetus, spouse o' th' king's daughte'. Yet, 
upoori seeing th' message which Bellerophon had given him. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 159 

the subtile soveraigne of the Lycians put upon him many 
great labours. These, however, were all accomplish'd, and 
whe' it became known that Bellerophon was the offspring 
of a god, the Lycian soveraigne gave him as his wife one 
of his daughters; and by her he became the sire of both 
sonnes and that fayre daughter, Laodamia, whom Jove 
himselfe secretly loved. Of one of these sonnes, Glaucus 
was th' offspring. 

Then Diomedes, when hee heard this, well remember'd 
this sire as a guest in his father's house, and spake of it. 
Both doughty warriours then leapt downe to give the hand, 
thus bespeaking amitie. And Jove depriving Glaucus of 
all prudent foresight, hee exchanged armes with Diomed, 
giving his rich golden ai*mour for brazen — the valewe of 
an. hundred oxen for the valewe of nine. 

But when Hector arrived at the Seian gates, wives and 
mothers surrounded him to ask for th' welfare of th' sonnes, 
brothers, friends and husbands in th' field. He, however, 
straightway ordered that all should supplicate th' gods, 
so many evills were impending. Then he hasten 'd to the 
beautifull pallace of Priam, and his fond niotlier there met 
him and hung upon his hand, begging that wine might be 
brought, that he might pour upon th' earth a libation unto 
Jove a.nd th' other immortal Is. This Hector declin'd, 
saying he wisht nought that would enervate him, nor did 
he hold it meete that hee come with gory hands to offer 
vowes to th' powerful sonne of Saturn; but bade Hecuba, 
from th' rare stores they possest, select the most beautifull 
robe and bear it to Minerva's temple, vowing to her twelve 
yeerelings that never felt the goade, if she mil avert from 
sacred Illium Tydides, that fierce warriour, valiant author 
of terror. 



160 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Whilst Hecuba was thus eng-ag'd (in companie with 
other dames of distinction) Hector pass'd on to the 
beauteous halls, where Alexander built for liimself lofty 
and splendid apartments, close by those of Hector and 
Priam. There hee found Paris pollishing brightly the 
golden anuour and fitting th' crooked bowe. Sharpely he 
reproached him for his infatuation, saying also that his 
rage was ill suited to th' time. Threat to the safety of 
niium mennaced on everie hand, and he himselfe would 
reprove any other warriour that was thus remisse in th' 
hatefull battaile. But Paris disclaimed all this, and said 
it was because of griefe, chiefely, rather then rage or 
indignation, that he was thus absent from the fight; but 
that his wife, wath kinde words, had urg'd him to go forth, 
and he also thought it would be better. 

But Hector made no answer. Helen spake soothingly 
to him, regretting in her soule that a tempest, at the hour 
o' her comeing into the world, had not carried her off to 
some mountayne top, or to the sea to be a prey to the 
billowes. Then she begg'd Hector to be seated, but hee 
would not be perswaded to remaine, although hee was sensi- 
ble of her courtesie, urging but one thing: that Paris come 
at once unto the battaile. 

Then he went to his dwelling that he might look upon 
his wife, the faire Andromache, and his infant sonne, since 
the gods had perchance decreed his fall at that battaile. 
His wife he did not find, for she had goue forth unto the 
walls. Thither Hector follow'd, and Andromache espying 
him ran out to meete him, with her a maid bearing th' 
child. Andromache took hold on Hector, saying it was 
strange he should go out so fearlesslie to th' warre without 
pitty for her or his child, foretelling that valour would 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 161 

destroy him, and bemoaning her fate. Hector replied, it 
were shame to all the Trojans should he not defend th' 
citty; but spake eloquentlie, with tender paine and sorrow, 
of Andromache's possible captivitie and servitude. Then 
he stretcht forth his arms for his child, but th' infant, 
affrighted at th' nodding plumes, (also because of all that 
glitt'ring brasse) hid his face in th' bosom of his nurse. 
Hector, smiling, took off his^ Helmet and plac'd it upon the 
ground; then he fondled his ^.'tle sonne, whilst he praied 
aloud that he might become a brave souldier, even braver 
then he, his valiant sire, a joy to his mother. 

Then he placed the boy tenderly in his wife's arms. 
She tearfully smil'd, and the babe hid his face in her 
bosome. [Soothing words Hector then doth speake, and 
doth pray her to beleeve none can send him to th' shades 
of death untill his date be out; and not a man that is borne 
can escape fate, bee he brave or cowardlieii Her he bade 
return to the care of th' household, whilst hee went forth 
again to battaile. 

VII. 

liTeythe' did Alexander staye behind, but joyn'd his 
brother as hee pass'd forth, and together they went to the 
field to hew down the Greeks. Minerva, seeing them 
destroying manie, descended Olympus hastily to staie them; 
but Apollo, knomng her mission, met her and proposed 
anothe' course of action. This was nothing less then that 
Hector might challenge the bravest of the Greekes to 
single combat. 

This beeing agreed upon it was made knowne to Hector, 
who straightway sent a roisting challenge 'mongst th' wait- 
ing Greekes. By the tearms of this challenge, th' araiour 



162 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

of the coTiqiier'd should go to the victor, but rhe bodie 
should bo sent to his owne people. The Greekes were all 
mute with dread, yet asham'd to refuse. 

Then Menelaus addrost them, calling,- them but dames 
without courage, and said he would accept th' in\atation 
himselfe. This would have beene sure death, and Atrides 
knew it; therefore hee, seizing th' hand of his brother, 
dissuading with eloquence, prevail'd upon him to give over. 

Then Nestor rose and, inciting thei' courage, told of his 
brave actions in his youth, and longed to have once more 
the mighty strength of former yeeres. 

Nine warriours rose in auswer to his appeale. 
Agamemnon much the first rose up, then Diomed and the 
two Ajaces, next Idomeneus, then his armour-bearer, 
Meriones, after them Eurypylus, Thoas and di^-ine Ulysses. 
All these wish'd to goe out to fight Hector, but the Gerenian 
knight, Nestor, bade them decide by lot who should accept 
his challenge. Then each mark'd his owne lot and cast 
it into th' helmet of Atrides, the king. Then they pray'd 
aloud that Ajax, or Tydides might get the lot, or th' 
Mycenaean king himselfe. The Gerenian knight shookc 
the helmet and the lot of Ajax leapt out. A herald then 
let each chicfc see th' lot as he pass'd from right to left. 
But all diselaim'd it until he came to Ajax, who, stretching 
forth his hand for it, saw that it was th' one that he had 
marked, and, in soule rejoycing, cast it upon the ground, 
saying to all that the lot was his, and bidding them silently 
lift up prayers lest the Trojans heare, or even aloud for 
nothing daunted him, nor did hee lacke skill and use. 

Then they supplicated Jove, praying that Ajax might 
bear away the victory, but if he lov'd Hector with an equall 
love, give an e-quall might and glory to both. When Ajax, 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 163 

therefore, had put on his armour, he rusht forward, g^rimly 
smiling. The Greekes rejoyc'd at the sight, but the Trojan 
warriours trembled, and even Hector's soule thrill'd and 
panted, since ha^^ng given challenge it was impossible to 
retract. Then mighty Ajax bade Hector note many heroes 
besides Achilles amongst the Greekes, and begg'd him to 
beginne the strife and battaile. 

Hector in turne replied he knew all shiftes and passes, 
but he would scorne any but open warfare. Then he hurls 
the long beam so forcibly that it pierces th' outer brasse of 
that seven-fold oxhide shield and penetrates sixe layers, but 
stays in the sevent fast fixt. Xow Ajax hurls a mightie 
speare, and it goeth through his equal shield, nor staies 
untill it through his curat glides and cuts in tway his 
tunicke near the flank, but bending or turning hee escapes 
blacke death. Drawing forth th' speai'es, like ravening 
lions or boars, they againe joyn'd battaile. The point of 
Hector's was bent on Ajax' shield, but Ajax' weapon 
repelled and wounded Hector. Yet did he not cease from 
the combat, but, seizing a great stone lying in the plain, 
hurl'd it forth, strook the shield of Ajax upo' the bosse so 
that it rang loudly. He in turne snatclit up a heavier stone, 
and dispatcht it with such force it broke through Hector's 
shield and wounded him in the knee, so that he fell supine. 
But Apollo (juickly rered him. And now, in a clns(> hand 
to hand combat with the sword, both \V(iii]d liave had 
deadlie wounds had not the message come to them to cease. 
The heralds, Talthybius and Idseus, were sent from eyther 
side, bidding th' battaile cease in obedience to approaching 
j^ight. Ajax, however, must hear it utter'd by him whom 
he fought ere he yeelded. Hector therefore pronounc'd 
similar words, and, exchanging gifts, they separated. 



164 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Then councils were held among both Trojans and 
Greekes. Nestor avis'd th' Greekes to seeke forth their 
dead; to build one common pile, before which a trench 
should bee dug, (and beside it gates should bee erected for 
the chariots to pass through) a bulwark to their camp. 

]\feanwhile Antenor was exhorting th' assembled 
Trojans that they should let Helen go; but Paris refused 
with warmth, whylst proposing he should restore th' treas- 
ures, and add something thereto. Priam likewise 
harangued them, sajdng it were well they first go€ to their 
repast, mindfull ever of the watch, and in the morning 
send a herald to the Greekes to lay before them proposalls 
of a truce (that those that were slaine might be burn'd) at 
th' time he made them th' offer of Paris, which he bade the 
herald say must be accepted, or they would fight again till 
fate divide them or give th' victory to one or the other. 

But when Idseus bore th' word to the Greeks, they 
reccyv'd it mutely. But brav Diomed bade them receyve 
neither Helen nor the treasures, for even a babe could see 
that an evill fate impended over th' Trojans; and all th' 
Greekes shouted in approval. Whereupon Agamenmon 
bade the herald heare this expression of sentiment that 
accorded fully with his owne. Yet as co'cern'd the dead, 
they bore them no grudge, therefore might they performe 
hastily their obsequies with fire, but Jove must be a mt- 
nesse to the treaties. Then he raised up his scepter to 
the gods, and both hastily brought forth tlieir dead and 
built their pyles. 

The Greekes built a wall and strong towers, and put 
therein gates thorow which the chariots might passe; and 
without it, dug a deep ditch wherein postes, well sharpen'd, 
were set. Th' gods, observing th' defence, admir'd it; but 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 165 

Neptune made a plaint that the wall he and Apollo had 
built round the citty of Troy for Laomedon would be 
eclips'd. Jove reprov'd th' Earth-shaker, saying he could 
easily overturne th' wall, obliterate everie trace of it with 
sand, and th' place thereof know it no more. 

At set of sun the wall was compleated, and they took 
repast. Then shippes from Lemnos bearing wine from 
Euneiis, the sonne o' Jason^ came, A thousand measures 
were a present fro' Euneiis to Atreus' sonns, but, for the 
rest, th' Greekes gave in exchange large portions of brasse, 
iron, skins, and even oxen and slaves, and they feasted 
boimteously all the night. In Troy also they made a great 
feast, but Jove, meantime, with loud thunderings, was 
devising evills that should fall on Greekes and Trojans 
alike; and pale feare tooke hold upon all, and they dar'd 
not drinke till they pour'd out a libation to Saturn's 
supreme sonne, but afterwards lay downe and enjoy'd the 
boon of sleepe. 

VIII. 

Then Jove, having summon'd the Olympian gods to an 
assembly upon the very summit of th' highest mount, for- 
bade them to take any further part in th' conflicte 'twixt 
the Greekes and Trojans. At Mount Ida, consulting the 
scales of Destiny, he directs his forked-lightnings against 
the Greekes. Nestor now, in th' chariot of Diomed doth 
goe out agaynst Hector, whose mighty charioteer Diomed 
slays; then Jove, thund'ring, tum'd backe the Greekes, aud 
they sought refuge within their bulwarks. And then 
indeed would Hector have press'd with tire to- the very 
shippes, had not venerable Juno put it into th' heart and 
mind of Agamemnon (seeing this returne of his hosts) to 



166 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

urge, as vehemently as he was able, a charge with all their 
forces. TaMiig position npo' Ulysses' vessell, ?o that his 
speech might bee heard as farre as th' tent of Telamonian 
Ajax on th' one side, and to that of Achilles on the other, 
Atrides incited them forth thro' a dread of shame should 
they bee driven before Hector alone, praying that they 
might escape (at least) with their lives. And -Jove sent 
his eagle wnth a fawne in th' talons as they were offering 
sacrifice, and the fawn is caste downe to earth near the 
lieautifull altar. When they saw th' sigiie from Jove, they 
rusht forth to battaile, but none went before Diomed. 
After him came th' two sonnes of Atreus; n(>xt the two 
Ajaces, clad in impiteous courage, then Idomeneus, and his 
armour-bearer, Meriones, follow'd by Eurypylns; and the 
ninth was Teucer. 

Close upon Telamoiiian Ajax he prest, — as child to its 
mother, — who shelter'd him behi'd that mighty shield. 
And Teucer peer'd forth, as Ajax mov'd the shield unto 
one side, a.nd' shooting his ari'ows swiftly, slew many of 
the Trojans. 

Agamemnon rejoyc'd seeing him, and stood by him to 
incite him, making promise of rich reward when they 
should have enter'd the captuyd citty. But Teucer bade 
the general ohsen^e that hee needed no exhortation. In 
fine, he would himselfe doe all that was within his power, 
but as yet he could not hit the mighty chiefe at whom 
he aym'd. Againe and againe he levell'd an arrow at 
valiant Hector, but Apollo guarded the hero from ail 
harme. 

Teucer, however, slew Hector's mighty charioteer. 
This so enrag'd the great Trojan that he seiz'd an heavy 
stone and strooke the youth, so that he fell upon his knees. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 161 

Then Ajax held th' shield over him whylst two strong 
companions bore the suffering young warriour to one side, 
groaning heavily. Then Jove rous'd the mightie Trojans 
who drove backe th' Greekes to their defenses ; and Hector 
in the van lash'd his fierie steeds in pursuite, and slew great 
nmnbers of those that were in the hindmost of th' rankets. 
Juno, seeing their flight, prevayled upon Minerva (in 
despight of Jove, his decree) to go out with her to the 
succor of the Greekes. At this, Jove was angry with 
Pallas more then with Juno, who, he said, sought ever a 
meane to th\vart the plans and purposes hee wished to 
carry out. But he now prevented their interference, and 
during the whole of the night Hector prevented surprises 
through wise prevision. Youths and aged men were given 
order keep watch in the towers, the matrons to have 
mighty fires in their halls, and a strong guard set to watch 
the secret entrances to the town; but meantime a thousand 
fires blazed around the citty, and fifty men at each fire sat 
at watch. 

IX. 

Then old Xestor, wiselie counselling, bade Agamemnon 
send Ulysses with Phcenix and Ajax to the tent of the hero 
Achilles, if by any meanes they could prevayle on him to 
come to their ayde, but 'twas of no availe. 



Next Diomedes and subtile Ulysses slyly enter the 
Trojan campe at night, having firet entrapt and slaine 
Dolon, who had set out as a spye to the Grecian campe. 
From him they obtain'd the desir'd informatio' that inabled 
them to seeke out the tent of that Thracian king Rhesus, 



168 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

and having slayne him (with many others) Ulysses loosed 
th' solide hoov'd warlike steeds, and, lashing them with the 
bowe, drove them away to the Greekes. 



XI. 



Then they resum'd th' conflicte. Atrides fought most 
furiously, but Paris woundeth Diomed, and Socus doth 
injure Ulysses. No sooner do Ajax and Meuelaus observe 
this, then they go to their ayde. Patroclus now seeketh 
Xestor at his tent, and th' sire exhorteth him to goe to 
the field in the armour of Achilles. 



XII. 



Ere long the Trojans assail the mighty gates and presse 
toward the shippes, in disregard of Polydamas, who inter- 
preted the omens as most unpropitious. 



XIII. 



Then Neptune engages on the Greecian side, and the 
battaile proceeds hotly. Dei'phobus is repuls'd by Meri- 
ones. Teucer slays Imbrius, while mighty Hector, smiting 
Amphimacus, takes away his life, in turne. 

Neptune assuming a likenesse to Thoas, exhorteth 
Idome'eus, who proceedeth to the battaile with Meriones. 
Idomeneus slays Othryoneus and then Asius. Seeing this, 
Dei'phobus, ayming his speare at Idomeneus, slayeth him 
not; however his speare falleth not idlie to ground, for 
flj'^psenor is slayne. Then Idomeneus doth subdue 
Alcathoiis, over whose body a sharp contest doth take place. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 169 



XIV. 



Agamemnon and other wounded chiefes visiting- the 
battle now, the Earth-shaker, in the likeness of an aged man, 
taking holde on the hand of Agamemnon, spake winged 
words and greatly incited the courage of the souldiers. 
With a bellowing roar, louder then anie ten thousand men, 
hee hasted on. 

Juno seing him was delighted, and prepared at once to 
visit Jove on faire Ida. Bathing and perfuming her- 
selfe soe sweetlie that the odor reached both earth and sky, 
she arraj'd herselfe in a beautifull embroder'd robe with 
golde claspes and a rich zone, from which an hundred 
fringes depended, and, having smooth'd her gleaming haire 
and disposed it well, she put on her trebble jewell'd eare- 
rings, and, over all, a beautifull shining veyle. Going 
forth from her chamber and finding Yenus, she obtain'd 
from her the cestus, w^hich she wore seducing men or gods, 
as no allurement was lacking. In it were desire, love- 
converse, seductive speech — able to steaJe away the min.de 
even of th' very prudent. 

Then, descending Olympus, passing with all swiftnesse 
ore mountain and sea, she came at length to farre-distant 
Lemnos and sought out Sleepe, the brother of Death. She 
tooke fast hold upon his hand and begg'd that he would 
now close in sleepe the eies of Jove, promising a golden 
throne and footstoole if he grant her wash. But hee 
declined, least Jove destroy him in his anger. Yet, when 
Juno' promis'd him the youngest of the Graces to wed — 
Pasithea — hee could no longer withstand her. However, 
he made her sweare by the water of Styx, with one hand 
upon the earth and the otlier upon the sea, calling the 



170 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Titans to witnosse her oath, that she wonhl surely give him 
one of the younger CJraces — Pasithea, his hart's desire. 
Hast'ning to many-riU'd Ida, Jnno placed her person con- 
spicuously in Jove's sight, but Sleepe conceal'd himselfe. 
Juno, faining to Jove (as she had to A^enus), that she 
sought to unite Ocoanus and Tethys, inflam'd his desire to 
keepe her near liim, avowing, indeed, that none (be she 
goddesse or woman) had awaken'd so much love in his 
bosom, not even herself e at any former time, he pleaded; 
she yeelded unto the embrace of Saturn's lordly sonne, 
and hee shed a golden cloud round them, hiding them from 
sight. I^ucid drops were distill'd from the cloud, and the 
divine earth produced hyacinth, lotus, sweet with dewe, 
and crocus, thus forming a flow'rie couch, where the sire 
quietly slumber'd with his spouse in his armes, subdued 
by Sleepe and love. But Sleepe went in all swift haste to 
the Greeks, where he found the powerfull Earth-shaker, 
and led him on to incite the Greekes. 

XV. 

Jove waked to see th' Trojans driven before them and 
was exceedingly angTV. (^ailing Iris he sent her forth 
to induce mighty l^eptune to leave the field, and requested 
divine Apollo that he would at once heale Hector. 

Armed wath the .^Egis, Apollo doth put the Greekes com- 
pleatly to rout and drive them to their shippes. These all 
til' Trojan heroes thought to bum. Ajax (Telamon) kept 
the fire backe and himselfe slew twelve of the Trojan 
warriours. 

XVI. 

Then valiant Patroclus obtain'd permission of Achilles 
to don that hero's armour and lead forth the Myrmidons 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 171 

to th' succour of the Greekes, upon the condition that he 
should take heede of all danger and return as soone as 
th' Trojans were driven backe. This he fail'd to do, but 
persew'd the fleeing foe to th' walls of Troy, eager t<» 
slay Hector. Him, indeed, Apollo protected, but Sarpedon 
was slaine, and also Hectoi'^s charioteer, Cebriones. He is 
repelled by Apollo, wounded by Euphorbus, and put to 
death by Hector, but not before he declares th' fate of 
Hector. The latter mounteth Achilles' chariot, and fol- 
loweth after Automedon to th' shippes of the Greekes. 

XVII. . 

Menelaus tlien slayeth Euphorbus, who was attempting 
to remove the armour of Patroclus. As Atrides doth stand 
waighing in his niinde what he should doe, Hector's 
approach frights Menelaus so that he doth goe in search of 
Ajax. Then Hector doth take off the beautiful armes, but 
as he is dragging the body away to sever the head from 
the trunke, he seetK Ajax advancing, and in all haste 
mounteth his charet, giving tiie annoiu- to some of th' 
Trojans to cany to Troy. 

These two, Ajax and the sonne of Atreus, guarded the 
fallen hero. As a lionesse, keeping watch ore her whelps 
as the huntsmen draw nigh, doth goe round about the den, 
soe Ajax, lowering th' shaggy browes, glaring savagely, 
walked round him, th' whiles Menelaus stood beside him. 
Then Glaucus reprov'd Hector in so shai-pe a manner that 
the great hero's heai't rag'd, and he, returning, beginneth 
the conflict anew over th' body of Patroclus, while Automer 
don, doth furiously defend the chariot of Achilles. The 
Greekes are beaten backe at length, and e'vn heroicke Ajax 
doth shrinke backe, yet Meriones and brave Menelaus bear 
away the body of Patroclus. 



172 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

XVIII. 

Achilles gave waje to the most violent grief e, throw- 
ing himselfe on the ground, weeping and soe sorelie lament- 
ing that his agony touched Thetis' heart; and she came out 
of the deepe to give him comfort, and with her came manie 
sea-nymphs. She promises him also she will procure forth- 
with most beautifull annor, and for this puqDOse doth go 
to Vulcan and beg that hee will prepare it at once. 
Vulcan, consenting, maketh first a five-fold shield, with a 
belt of silver. 

On it were the earth, the heavens, the sea, th' unwearied 
sunne, the moone, and the constellations which crowne the 
heavens — the Pleiades, the Hyades, the strength of Orion, 
with the Beare (that is likewise denominated Wain) and 
is the only constellation never wet in wave of the sea. 

On it were two faire citties, in one mamage feasts, 
dancing, sweete songs, musik and gladnesse; round the 
other two armies sat at watch, at one and other side, besieg- 
ing it. 

There was a fallow field, and men with their ploughs; 
and a waving cornfield, where I'eapei's were thrusting in 
their sharp reaping-hookes. 

On it was a sunny vineyard with golden clustei*s of 
grapes, where faire maidens, and joyous, skiping youths 
gather'd the grapes, or danced to the musicke of the harpe. 

On it was a heard of oxen driv'n forth to th' field, with 
lions seizing the leader of the heard before the heards- 
man's eies. 

There was also upon th' shield a dance, such as Daedalus 
devis'd for Ariadne, where youths and maides mingled in 
a gracefull motion holding each the wrist of the other. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 173 

And near the outmost edge he plac'd that mighty rivw, 
Oceanus. 

Then he made a corselet brighter then the sunne; also 
a well-fitted hehnet with golden crest; and greaves of the 
tinne which maj bee well hammer'd. 

When all was finished, lie plact the whole at Thetis' 
feet, who, as a hawke doth sweep downe from the sky, 
darted adowne from snowy Olympus bearing th' armoiu- to 
her Sonne. 

XIX. 

Then all the rest of his troopes, dazled at sight thereof, 
shrank backe, affrighted. Achilles, on the contrarie, 
rejoyced in soule. Shouting he went along the shore, and 
straightway thci wounded chieftaines — Tydeus' sonne, with 
Ulysses and Atrides — gather to an. assembly, at which 
Atrides and Achilles are reconcil'd, and the latter hasteth 
forth to take vengeance for his friend, his death, in despight 
of Xanthus' prediction regarding his fate. 

XX. 

Jove doth permit the gods againe to ingage in the con- 
flict, and they range themselves on one or other side. Then 
had Trojan ^Eneas, who engaged Achilles, fallen at the 
hand of this hero save for th' watchfullnes of i^eptune. 
Hector also attacks him, in order that he may avenge his 
brother Polydoru'. 

XXI. 

Him Apollo rescuetli, but many are slaine by th' 
fierce Greeke, who doth compell one part of the Tro- 
jan armie to witlidraAv towards Troy, and doth force 
a second part into the Xanthus. Here, insteed of 



174 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

putting- all to death, he saveth twelve youths to offer as 
a sacrifice oii the fimerall pvle of his friend. Hee slayeth, 
savagely, Lycaon, also Asteropsens, whilst loudly deriding 
tke riA'e' god as unable to defend his friends. This doth 
so enrage the Eiver that he riscth up, and, menacing dread- 
fuly, doth attempt to overwhelme Achilles; but mighty 
Vulcan protecteth him and wardeth off the danger. 

The gods standing by engage in single combat, greatly 
delighting Jove. Fii-st Mars smote warlike Minen-a with 
his speare, hitting the xEgis. ISTot even Jove's thundei^bolt 
may subdue this, however, and soone Minerva prostrated 
him with a monstrous stone. Falling, he cover'd seven 
ackers, and he made a horrible crash. Then Minerva, exult- 
ing, taunted him as he lay prone; yet Venus, pitying him, 
led him away, but with diffiv-ulty he collected his spirits. 
WHterarm'd Juno seeing them, incited Pallas to pursue 
them. She therefore liasted after them and overthrowi'g 
them, spake reproachfull words, wishing that all Trojan 
allies were sucli as they, since Troy then might easily be 
overcome. Juno smil'd at these words, but tlie Earth- 
shaker spake to Apollo, reminding liim of tlieir unrequited 
labour for the Trojans a long time before, and asking if 
for this hee is a friend and ally of that treaty-breaking 
people. However, he thought it not meet that they longe' 
hold aloofe from combat, since all th' gods were ingag'd 
there in an unpremeditated strife. Apollo answer'd, that 
it was unwdse for the immortalls to contend on tlie part of 
creatures of niortall frame. 

At this th' FaiTC-darter withdrew; but when Diana^ — 
his rustick sister — seeing him, rebuk'd liini, taunting him 
a.s th' bearer of an idle Iwwe, he did answer not a word. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 175 

At this the spouse of Jove, taking up the word, hurriedly 
addrest her in great fury, ending by phicking Diana's bowe 
from her shouldere and beating her (smiling meanwhile), 
smiting her about the eares. As a dove affnghtcd flieth 
from a hawke, so tim'rous Diana weeping fled, without 
staying to gather up her dusty arrows. 

Then Mercury, the messenger of Jove, addrest Latona, 
saying he would not contend with a spouse of cloud-com- 
peling Sonne of lordly Saturn, because she Avould surelie 
boast amongst the immortalls of victory. Thereupon ' 
Latona took up the bow, gather'd up the scatt'red an-ows, 
and follow'd Diana to Olympus, where she had gone to 
make complaint to Jove. Latona found her belov'd child 
seated close beside Jove, who drew her nearer smilingly 
while he sooth'd and comforted her, asking who had soe 
distress'd her, but hearing that it was Juno, said not a 
word. 

Apollo then repair'd to sacred Illium, for the walls were 
to him a care, but all other gods ascended to Olympus. 

Then Achilles pursued the Trojans with great slaughter; 
and Priam, observang him from one of Troies high towers, 
descended in all hast to give ordei*s to throw wide the gates 
to let the flying Trojans enter, but ba,de them haste to 
close them when the troopes had come in, lest Achilles, 
following upon tlieir heels, enter with them. 

Cover'd with dust, thirstie, almost breathlesse, they 
enter'd. Then had not Apollo mov'd Agenor, the sonne of 
Antenor, to gO' against Achilles, the citty had fallen into 
the hands of the sonnes of the Oreekes. Guarding his 
person with his mightie shield, he caste his speare, smiting 
the greave upon one shin; but, not disabled, Achilles pur- 
sued Agenor so hotly that Apollo must needs shelter him 
with a mist, and remove him from danger. Then Ukening' 



176 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

himselfe to Agenor, he beguiled Achilles to followe, with 
the hope of overpowering one soe mighty, (not discerning 
that a god led him on) turning his steps ever to'ard River 
Scamander. 

XXII. 

Meanwhiles, Hector remain'd without the walls, eager to 
combat with Achilles. Priam, seeing the latter advance 
shining like Orion's dog, that brilliant starre of autumn, 
(bright indeed, but most baleful], for the violent heat that 
conimeth thereafter) addresseth his sonne, stretching forth 
his feeble hands with piteous action, and tearing his hoarie 
haire. Then Hecuba laid bare her brest that was a source 
of food and rest in his infancy. But all availeth not 
a whit. 

Like a hug-e serpent that, till'd with rage, awaiteth th' 
coming of a man, coyling itselfe round and round, so 
doughty Hector, filled with inexhaustible courage, leaning 
that waightie shield against the projecting wall of th' tower, 
mused in his soule as hee awaited the approach of Pelides. 
But when th' hero, shining like a blazing fire, or even as 
the simne, commeth on like th' Helmet-shaker, Mars, a 
tremor seizeth him and he fleeth affrighted. Round and 
round \vith swifte feete he doth fly, circling about Tl-oy's 
walls thrice, Achilles close following: a brave man is 
leading th' race, a braver one followeth, since 'tis not a 
victim that is sought, nor m hide of a bull, but for th' veiy 
life (they nm) of horse-breaking Hector. This the gods 
note, as they begin the fourth time to encircle the citty, 
and speake together concerning the fate of Hector. 
Finally, Jove throweth into his golden scales long sleepe, 
to mark to which one it would fall, in one having plac'd 
Achilles' fate of deatli, and Hector's in the other. As 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 177 

Jupiter holdeth the scales up, poising them, Hector's fatall 
day doth go swiftlie downe to Hades, and Phoebus Apollo 
then leaveth him. 

Minerva induceth Pelides to stand, in hope of bringing 
about face to face contest. Likening herselfe to Dei'phobu^ 
(a favourite brother) she cometh nigh unto Hector, and 
perswadeth his minde to try his skill with the Grecian. 
Thus deceived, and thinking that one brother had beene 
brave enough to come to his ayde, Hector retumeth, arous'd 
to the strife; yet attempting to make a compact ^vith his 
opposer, that, in the event of his fall, his armour onelie 
should fall to Achilles, but that his body should bee kept 
for ransom. 

This eager Achilles loudlie derideth. asking if any league 
would hold 'twixt men and lions, or according minde be 
found 'tA>'ixt wolve' and lambes, and avowing that no treaty 
of any sort could hold 'twixt them. Then, brandishing, 
he sent forth his long-shadow'd speare, but Hector, bend- 
ing ove', doth avoide the blow. Quickly the goddesse, 
bringing the weapon backe, placeth it in Pelides' hand. 
Then Hector hurl'd forth that mighty long shadow'd speare, 
smiting the center of that massy shield, nor miss'd it; but 
rebounding, flew far off. Then Hector called to white- 
shielded Dei'p'obus to bring him a long spear, but he was 
not near him; and Hector perceaved in his minde that 
Deiphobus was not present as he su])posed, and felt that 
without doubt the Fates o' death awaited him. But hee 
resolv'd to meet the end bravely. 

Dra\\dng his long sword that hung lowe at his tlanke, 
like a soaring eagle that doth sweepe downe upon a tender 
lambe or tim'rous hare, so Hector rush'd on Achilles. But. 
brandishing his speare and holding his wrought shield so 



178 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

that 'twould warde a thrust, Achilles also went eagerly for- 
\vard. Like Hesperus the brazen tip of his speare did 
glister, as he stoode eying Hector's faire person in order to 
finde where best it would yeeld. Then was th' dreadfull 
weapon hurl'd swiftly, and it lodg'd under the collar-bone, 
where the necke and shoulder joyne, yet did not sevei' 
the weasand; therefore, he could yet speake. Hee pray'd 
Achilles that his body might not be fed to Grecian dogs; 
that he would receive brasse and gold in ransom therefor, 
father and mothe' alike would gladly furnish, in order that 
the funerall obsequies might bee performed. But, nought 
perswaded, Achilles avow'd that not ten or twentie times the 
ransome he had in mindc, not even gold should be accepted, 
for nought could avert the destin'd ignomy and shame. 
And Hector, sighing, said that knowing Achilles as he 
did, he knew before he spake what fate was his, for th' 
soule within the bosome of Achilles was iron; but hee 
said: "Xay, reflect lest the wrath o' th' gods fall on thee 
for my sake on th' daye when Death's hand clutch thee, 
when Paris and Phoebus Apollo shall stnke thee downe.'' 

With words like these his soule descended to Hades, 
but Acliilles still addrest the lifelesse body, bidding hiui 
dye, that hee fear'd not his fate at Jove's hands, or by the 
will of other gods. 

Then the rest of the Greekes approach! as Achilles 
pluckt the bloodie armour from the brest, ha\'ing dra\vTie 
forth the speare, and all admir'd the forme and stature of 
Hector, yet none pass'd by without inflicting a wound. 

Then Achilles spake to the Greekes, saying they now 
might try the mind of Troy, since it was giv'n unto them 
t' subdue mighty Hector, but nought should be done untill 
Patnx'lus' funerall rites should be obseiw'd. Tlieu split- 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 179 

ting each heel, he fasten'd leather thongs to them, hj which 
he bound' him to the chariot in such a way that his head 
trail'd along, and dnst defil'd his glorious locks. Then 
taking up the armour, he mounted his cliariot and lash'd 
his steeds on towards the shippes. 

King Priam, seeing him, is undone, and Queene Hecuba 
also lamenteth loud; but yet for a time the wife of Hector 
knew not what had occur'd, for no messenger had beene 
sent to her. However, the sound of wailing did pierce her 
eares, and her heart interprets aright the measure of woe 
meted out to Illium. It is as if its smnmit, stooping to its 
fall, were wrapt in flame. But upon reaching the tower, 
where the men stood crowded together, she saw Hector's 
body being dragged in tlie dust towards the Grecian vessells, 
and fell swouning, and darknesse veyled her frightened 
eies; but reviving, she collected her soule, whilst 'midst 
sobs she bewail'd Hector's fate and hers, and with bereaved 
Andromache all the dames standing near wept and moum'd. 

XXIII. 

Then Achilles is warn'd by the ghost of his deceas'd 
friend to performe the funerall rites of Patroclus, and this 
is done with many games (for valuable prizes). 

XXIV. 

Afterward, Jove biddeth Thetis go unto Achilles and 
demand th' body of Hector, sending Hermes forth also 
to conduct old Priam unto liim to offer tlr treasures he 
collected. Priam's wife and belov'd sonnes plead with him 
in vaine to restraine him, and, confiding in Jove's omen 
— th' eagle cald with them Percnos or Black Hunter — he 



180 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

went forth on that sad quest, bnt Mercury was a great 
comforter, and upheld Priam's courage and strenji-th. 

When til' gates in th' bulwarkes beliind the trench were 
reached, Hermes put the men (who were th' giiard) asleepe 
as the J were gone aside to feast, and unbolting the gates, 
conducted the steeds and nmles through the campe untill 
they reach'd the lofty tent of Achilles, that the M^Tmidons 
rear'd for their king, loppi'g the fir timbers, and cov'ring it 
with a thatch o' grasse mowne in the fragrant meades, and 
fencing it with a great fence of staddles cut off and set 
thickly. The gate was well sperr'd up with a single fir, 
which three men onelie might shoot save Achilles. This 
l^fercury op'd for old Priam, bidding him enter and embrace 
Achilles by the knees, and supplicate him by his father, his 
faire^haired mother, also by his infant sonne, that he would 
accepte the ransome for his Sonne's body; but, reminding 
him of th' impropriety of a god overtly ayding mortalls, 
tooke his depart and returned to Oljanpus. 

Priam then, leapt downe from the chariot, leaving his 
steeds, mules and chariot in Tdieus' care, and entenng the 
tent unobsen^'d as Achilles finisht his repast, clasped his 
knees, and kissed those dreadful! man-slaught'ring hands; 
and as a dread sense of guilt seizeth a man, who, murthcring 
a man in his owne country, fleeth unto another, and 
astonish'd spectatoi-s stand round, so Achilles wonder'd 
(and they that stood by, looking one at other) seeing Priam. 

He, however, spake quicklie and brouglit forth ])is 
request, recalling to Achilles' minde his owne father of 
the same hoary age, who awaited hopefully liis ]i^•ing 
Sonne's retume, whilst he, once father of fifty brave sonnes, 
had scene many kil'd by the Greekes; and now, Hector, 
liis best lielov'd, who defended their citty and themselves. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 181 

was slaine by Achilles' hand, and he, his sire, had beene 
forc'd to do what no mortal man might endure — kisse the 
hand that had bereav'd his life. 

At these words, a desire to weepe seized Achilles, and as 
one writh'd upon th' ground bemoaning his Sonne's fat€, 
the other thought with regret of his distant father and 
of his friend Patroclus. But after a time, Achilles, rising, 
lifted up the old man, bidding him be seated (for he 
respected his hoary haires) and he exhorted him to let 
sorrow sink to rest in his minde, saying: "Chill grief e is 
usele^se, for no mortall can escape wretchednesse, and none 
save the gods are free from evill. Two caskes, the one 
containing evills, the other good gifts, stand beside Jove's 
threashold. From these hee sendeth forth mingled good 
and ill. Man falleth now upon one, againe upon another; 
sorrow, calamity, nimble mischance that hath soe swifte a 
foot, pursue him, nor is he honour'd of gods or men. 
Peleus, indeed, recej^'d golden gifts — riches and wealth, 
yet an ill fate has fallen upon him in that he had one 
only Sonne, who, with slight care of his owne life, put it 
in jeopardie dailie before Illion, in despite of the knowledge 
of his short span, which even his goddesse mother might 
not lengthen. Of thee, also, have wee heai'd that thy 
wealth at a former time did exceed many, and that from 
lower Phrygia to Hellespontus on the north thy borders 
then reached; but now the gods have sent bane upon 
thee, and warre and slaying of men do encompasse thy citty. 
Yet arise (for thou canst by mourning and grief e availe 
nought, nor restore him) ere further evills come upon 
thee." 

Priam indeed thought it not well that he should be 
seated or give place nntill Achilles had granted his prayer. 



182 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Tills provok'd a hasty reply, but at length the presents 
were brought in, save two cloakes, — a well woven tunicke 
also, — which were left to place on the body. Pelides bade 
IdsBus enter and be seated, but he kept the corpse from 
aged Priam's sight, lest his mourning cries should so move 
him that hee could not stay liis hand, and, taking his life, 
displease Jupiter; then, giving orders that tli' female 
attendants should wash and annoint th' body, waited with- 
out, and, when tliis was accomplish'd, himselfe tooke it 
up, put it upon the litter, and wath his companion's helpe, 
plac'd it on the beautifull chariot, at the same time making 
a moan to Patroclus because of the deed. 

Afterward he returned into the tent, and seating himself 
on a couch over against Priam, urg'd him to take food, since 
ids Sonne was plac'd on a bier and he could return to Illium 
on the moiTow. Pie citetli to him Niobe's case, who 
raoum'd the losse of twelve childre' destroy'd by Apollo 
and Diana because slie compar'd herselfe unto th' faire 
cheek'd Latona, who (she said) was the mother unto but 
two, while she had borne many. Yet, although overcome 
with griefe, Niobe was mindefull of food. "Let us like- 
wise be now attentive to our repast, then shalt thou lament 
this thy Sonne, conveying him to Troy, and thou shalt 
hewaile him with many teares." 

So saying, they prepar'd the repast quickly, drank wine 
together amicably, ate of th' roasted fleash, etcetera. Then 
Priam, opposite Pelides, much admir'd him, comparing him 
to the gods; and Achilles in tume marvell'd at Dardanian 
Priam, seeing his amiable expression and hearing him as 
he convers'd. But when they had gaz'd untill they were 
satisfied, the old man begg'd that Achilles would send him 
to his rest. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 183 

Achilles ■\^^lling'ly granting him th' request, he and his 
herald had couches prepar'd for them upon th' porch, 
while Pelides went to rest within the tent, and beside him 
lay faire Briseis. 

But Mercury slept not, for he was debasing a meanes 
to lead Priam aAvay safely. Therefore he descended from 
Olympus hastily, waken'd him, standing beside him, arous'd 
Idseus noiselessly and assisted him to yoke the steeds and 
the mules, then went with them through the campe; nor 
did hee leave them untill they reach'd the eddying Xanthus 
begotten by undying Jove. Then he ascended Olympus, 
and saffron-hued morn was diffused ore th' earth. Then 
they drove the steeds toward the citty (and the mules bear- 
ing the body), but none saw them save Cassandra, who 
like unto golden Venus, ascended Pergamus, and looking 
out acrosse the plaine, beheld them approaching, and soone 
assembled the people; soe they met them near the gates 
coming in with the body, nor was there a man nor woman 
left in the citty, so generall was the mourning. 

First came his wife and venerable mother, plucking out 
their haire as they touch'd Hector's head, whilst all th' 
spectators wept. They, indeed, all that day would have 
mourn'd and shed tears, if aged Priam had not badc' them 
cease their cries, and give way unto th' chariot till he had 
borne him home; then might they weepe untill they were 
saciated with mourning. Therefore, they stoode afare off, 
and, carrying him to th' illustrious pallace, they placed him 
on th' ornamented bed; and plac'd singers beside it, leaders 
of the dirge, who sang mourning ditties whilst the women 
made responsive moanes. Among them his wife beganne 
thus, while her hands held Hector's head: 



184 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

"O husband, hast thou died young in veares, whilst I 
am left a widow in the pallace? And beside myself e, here 
is thy infant sonne to whom L have given birth, ill-fated, 
who, I doubt not, will nere attain to manhood's strength, 
for ere that, our citty will topple to its compleat destriic- 
tion. Certainely thou, who wert ever its defender, and 
didst keepe from losse or injury its venerable wives and 
infant children, art no more. They will be carried captive 
to the shippes, nor shall 1 escape. But thou, O my sonne, 
slialt perchance accompany me where thou must performe 
unworthy tasks, toy ling for a mercilesse lord; or else 
some one of the Greekes (whose father, brother, or even 
his sonne thy father may have slaine) may gras]) with force 
thy tender hand, that he may cast thee headlong from some 
rower and dash thy life out. For true it is, thy father 
many an acte like unto this hath here perform'd. He 
never might be gentle to his foes, or leave an enemy to 
go unpunish'd; but, by his hand, many a Greek hath beene 
made to seize the earth with his set teeth. It is for this 
the people so lament in every nooke and angle of th' cittie. 
O Hector, thou hast caus'd untold calamity, and grief e 
unutterable unto us all, most to thy loving parents and t.o 
me. Bitter, aye, bitter is my endlesse griefe, for thou 
didst not upon thy couch when dying, stretch out thy 
hands to me, nor speake my name, or give me any word 
of prudent counsell, to comfor' me long yeares to come." 

Thus speaking, with floods of teares. Hector's fayre wife 
lamented, and with her all the other women moaned. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 185 

(Note.) Andromache, in her prophetic soul, kne^v 
her owne fate and dotli foretell that of their child. 
This is told in the ^Eneid, which I also translated, and 
is most pathetick and tender. Ever mourning, the 
childe in her heart, in her sad exile, keepeth pace 
with other children, and when she wrapt that other 
smiling babe Avithin the cloake her loAdng hands had 
wrought soe skilfully with threades of rich gold, she 
said, "Astyanax would have beene like in age; his 
hands, his haire, his smiling eies like thine." And 
every mother, in all the centuries since that sad day, 
doth sorrow with like paine from secret sympathie 
that mothers knowe. The lines which containe this 
mournefull story are thrice given in my workes. The 
sublimity of love and son*ow such as hers is most 
wonderful!, and is excell'd by nothing in our language 
except the stories of sacred history. Even Hecuba's 
lot was much lighter, for she died at th' hands of their 
captors. But to returne. 



Now Cometh aged Hecuba in place, and thus doth make 
her moane: 

"'O Hector, thou wert dearest of my sons, and truly of 
the gods thou wert the care, not alone in thy life, but also 
in this destiny of death. For all my other sonnes who 
fell into Achilles' hands, were sold beyond the sea at 
Lemnos, Samos, or at Imbrius; but thou, though he hath 
tane thy precious life, and daily dragg'd thee round 
PatrOclus' tomb, liest within our palaces as fresh and beauti- 
ful! of forme and every feature, as if Apollo, with his silver 
bow, had reav'd thee but to-day of joyous life." 



18« BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Thus speaking, aged Hecuba did cease her vehement 
Laments, while all the women join'd in teares and moanes. 

Helen c^nie third, weepingi sad teaxs, heavy sighes 
breaking the wordes, and said: 

"0 Hector, thou wert a beloved brother, as Alexander 
th' god-like man, is my husband. Kind hast thou and my 
father ever beene (and here have I dwelt twenty yeares), 
but til' others altogether despise me, and there is none other 
in th' breadth of Illium who will be kind to mee. There- 
fore 1 must mourne, not all alone for thee, but for my 
unhappy selfe." 

Ceasing to speake they mingled one long cry. Then 
Priam bade them bring to Troy the wood for the funerall 
pyle, assuring them that they had nought to feare untill 
twelve daies should have expired, for th' word of Achilles 
was pledg'd that no ambuscade should lay in wait for th" 
Trojans untill th' funeral! rites were concluded. 

Therefore, with both mules and oxen, for th' space 
of nine days did they bring the wood from the mount in 
quantities. When, however, th' tenth morn brought light 
unto mortalls, they carried forth noble Hector and placed 
him upon th' pyle, and applied fire to th' wood. 

But when rosy finger'd Morn appeared, they gather'd 
round th' pile of illustrious Hector; and whe' all had 
assembled together, they extinguish'd with darke wine all 
the pile that the fire had, ravening, taken hold on; and 
the brothers and companions of Ilector, with tearfuU eies, 
gather'd together his white bones. These they plac'd in a 
beautifuU uni of gold, which they forthwith deposited in 
a deepe grave, heaping on it numerous sliarpe stones. This, 
however, they did hastily, and kept constant and strict 
watch, lest the Greekes should make an attack too soone. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. ISf 

But when they had heap'd np th' tomb properly, they 
assembled in Jovo-iiurtnr'd Priam's lofty pallaces, and 
feasted on a splendid banquet. 

Thus were the solemn funerall rites of the great steedo- 
breaking' Hector performed. 



And this compleats Homer's Illiads, but the story of 
some of the great heroes may be found in my workes, for 
I wrote out, not only his Odysses in the great Cypher, but 
th' ^-J^neid of the noble Virgil. Thus can you peruse th' 
conclusion, and followe the wily Grecian Ulysses, and th' 
mighty sonne of loyely Venus that she bore to Anchyses — 
Trojan ^Eneas. The marginal! notes of our work which 
you now are using, hath an argument to my translation 
of th' ^Eneid, wliilea. La tine worke entituled De Augmentis 
Scientianmi will give ayde upon th' other. As in this 
work, you doubt] esse will note that favorit partes are 
enlarg'd, yet as it lendeth assistance to th' discypherer, it 
will not be any disadvantage or hindrance. 

In confident hope, I have intrusted this labour to your 
hands and am contente. 

FRANCIS St. ADBAN. 



fka:ncis bacon. 



DE AUfiMENTIS. 



Wliere, by a slighte alteration of the coiimion Italicke 
letters, the alphabets of a bi-1 iterate C3''phar having the 
two forms are readily obtain'd (instead o' letters that I 
cut out because I feare anie eye might reade what is hid 
in Cyphar, had such as are seene heere beene employed 
in an example) in every booke 1 send forth I use, for 
complete yet somewhat scattered rules or directions for 
another of different scope, this or otlier similar (\yphers, 
choosing, you observe, one in which there can be trusted 
any great state matter, and anything we holde of a nature 
such that it requireth a wisdome greater, I double nought, 
than wise King Salomon's to finde the purpose thereof, — 
1 mean the historic of my birth, and also my brother's, 
for I have written both in this secret storie. 

We alwaies prize most a thing that hath longest evaded 
our pursuite, for a man's nature ever hath some dregs of 
wild waies in despight of ages of clarifying or racking. 
There is somewhat of the hunter about all men: quietly 
waiting untill th' game be scented, but rushing forth with 
halloo more piercing then his home as hee joyneth the 
chace. Thus pursute becometh universall : but sliould Art 
teach my most constant and watclifull hunter to follow in 
perfect silence, hee shall alone unkennell th' skulkinge 
foxe, beare, triumphantly, the prize homewards, and enjoie 
honours by no one shared. Mine may bee stil'd simila', 



IN DE AUGMBNTIS. 189 

in fact, for th' honour of this methode — us'd whenere 
secret mater, of whatsoever kinde, is put forth, glorifying 
for all futurity one that should finde this — cannot cro^vne 
any brow save mine. 

So blind are men, that I tell heerewith a pretty tale, 
as in the playes to my Margaret, write out historic, give 
lines in all kinds of poetrie that I have in anie place found 
easy or pleasant, in so plain sight, you, indeede, Avill find 
light work divesting them o' manie disguises, but no eye 
save our owne espyes a word or signe. Thus will you 
doubt th' shrewdnesse they boast soe great, but can men 
find what none looke for, or pursew a path not ent'red 
upon, neither sought? 

I masqued manie grave secrets in my poems which I 
have publisht, now as Peele's or Spenser's, now as my 
owne, then againe in th' name of authours, so cald, who 
plac'd workes of mixt sort before a reading world, prose 
and poetry. To Robt. Greene did I entruste most of that 
work — rather his name appear'd as authour: therein you 
may finde a large portion that belonging truely to the 
realme of poetrie, would wel grace verse, yet it did not 
then seeme faire matter for it. As plaies some parts were 
againe used. 

Pull off ev'n now th' outside, disguising my story. 1 
am the rightfull heire to th' throne, since th' blood of 
King Henry is running i' these veynes — th' same as in 
any Tudor. If the late Queene could claime th' throne, 
E, her earliest flower of royall issue, was by th' like right 
— it goes without saying — at any and all tim&s heir- 
aparent to proud England's wide realm. 



190 Bl-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

But the day of justice having gone, past long since all 
hope of mj atchieving glory or fame, 'd& the ruler of th' 
realine of England, Ireland, Wales, France, — as formerly 
one portio' of the later was ours — also our colonies in all 
th' regions of the globe, fro' remote East to a remoter 
West. Never shall th' crowne rest on Prince Fran- 
cis' loftie brow; never shall th' great throne of this 
land bear up the sonne to the so-stiled \'irgin Queen, 
wedde' wife of Robt., Earl of Ixncester! Can these 
things be and not incite in one's heart a wish of shewing 
the truth to future generatio's? Can one of such a noble 
nature bee contente to bee but a common subject, who, 
knowing that by th' virtue of kingly birth, royall power 
should come, doth feele assur'd that hee hath noe lacke in 
th' parts and endowme'ts all that hold regall swaie doe 
require? and who having within such impulses of th' god- 
like patriarchal care for his owne people would willinglie 
give his time, his mony, labour, or all a Prince's power at 
anie time gone by, that yet shall be, or is, may, or may 
have performed for his subjects? 

For this reaso' do I labour for uicn's elevation and 
holde communion with Science. As knowledge doth in- 
crease, th' pleasure I take is greatlie increas'd also, and I 
see here before mee a bouudlcvSse province over which our 
raign may neve' cease. Th' secret story heere told doth 
fully set our wrongs before future reader': unto such do 
wee turne for judgement. 

This work, however, Mas intended for ayde upo' 
another CVphar, and next we will give keyes after we 
write out the argume't o' th' work. This is Homer's verse 
also, and doth take rank with his Tlliads. The title is: 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 191 



THE ODYSSES. 



The opening- scene is laid in an ile where dwelt the 
fayre young sprite — th' nymphe, Calypso. Th' ile farr- 
distant from men or gods was lovelie, indeed, and yet quite 
solitary. It can bee well seene, therefore, without ex- 
plaineing, faire, sweete Calypso wish'd to caste a spell over 
th' guest, whose ship was wrecked, soe that he must needes 
remaine. 

ScA'^en yeares he was thus restrained, whilst hee daily 
longed to sayle aAvaie from fayrest land of Ogygia to that 
farre-away rugged Ithica where his wife, awaiting his 
returne, shed many a teare. However th' faire nymphe 
entertain'd him with so much kindnesse (and having be- 
come the mother of two sonnes, earnestly besought the 
wanderer nere to depart,) to leave would have beene a 
cruell action; and indeed love vso mastereth her after 
Odysseus findes meanes once againe of going to sea, haA^ng 
ayded him as Mercuric gave orde', nor day nor night 
bringeth surcease and end to sorrowe. (Iriefe doth final- 
lie drive Atlas' daughte' to throw away her life, for she 
plung'd into the ocean and was drown'd. 

II. 

In th' Ile o' Ithica the principall men, seeing the 
vast throng of suters urging upon Penelope, the prudent 
and faitlifnll spouse this wanderer soe long'd to reach, 
(even as is seen, choosing her before hope of immortality, 
which Calypso promised him if oiiely he would remaine 
in Ogygya,) holde a councill. By th' advice of th' gods. 



192 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

and by their instruction a plann is made to fit out the 
vessel! of Telemachiis and send him forth to bring home 
this lost sire and husband. 

Minerva accompanies him in guise of Mentor as guide 
and protecto', and first they saile unto sandy Pylos to get 
advice, as th' sage who reigned over that wide land, aged 
N^estor, had great wisdome. 

III. 

Here hee is told to go to the magnanimou' king o' 
Sparta, Menelaus. 

IV. 

Of him not meerelie are they receiv'd most hos- 
pitably, having beene made favour'd guests at his mag- 
nificent pallace, — Telemachus, forsooth, receiving much 
kindnesse from fayre Helen, being th' sonne to the wilyest 
man that follow'd her into Phrygia to avenge her rape, — 
in truth they are informed also of his sire's shippewracke 
on Orgygia, of th' waye in which Atlas' winsome daughter 
had soe long prevented any efforts to escape. 



Odysseus had now finisht th' vessell, with faire Calyp- 
so's assistance, furnish'd it well, donn'd a choice robe 
presented by her, bade the nymph farewell and set out 
on th' voyage. During seventeene days fayre weather and 
a favouring saili'g breeze ])i"evayle(l, but on th' next it 
became tempestuous and his vessel! sooni^ l)egan to sinke. 
Throwi'g offe the clinging garment lie cast himselfe into 
th' sea, and prescrv'd from deatli by th' care of Pallas, 
finds land on the Phseacian shores. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSBS. 193 

VI. 

Here being found then by Nausicaa, tli' kinges daugh- 
ter, as he doth lie wrapt in soothing sleepe. 

VII. 

He is led to th' court, cloth'd and rendered fit to take 
part as beseemeth his position, and hospitablie entertained 
by her father. 

VIII. 

At a festive gathering, as the costlie meats and 
wines are plac'd before them, Odysseus doth give an 
acompt of those wanderings since the fall of Troie, re- 
counti'g all his narrow escapes from manie a difficile 
situation. 

IX. 

Therein spake he of those disastrous chances, by 
which he nearly lost his life; told his experience among 
th' Lotu'-eaters, how the sailors long'd to remaine in th' 
land where it seemeth ever an afternoon. 

Alcinous, much interessed in th' recitall, bade Odysseus 
dilate the storie, and he ran it tborowe even to that 
momentc as he sat at meat. He told th' storie of further 
adventures — a stay on th' He of Goats; sailing on to finde 
th' Cyclops, having twelve of his men with him, our trav- 
eller enco'nt'red Polyphemus, in his cave, where six of his 
sturdy followers were eaten even while tlr hero stood 
there, nor could hee and th' others have escapt a like fate 
had not Odyseus made th' great monsterr intoxicated with 
(Grecian wine. Without delay Odysseus burned out the 
giant's eye which occupied th' middle of his face, for he 
had but a single optick. Render'd helpeles thereby Poly- 
phemus could not staye their departure. 



194 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

X. 

They then ster'd westwards, coming first to th' Isle 
of ^ohis. The wind-god gave them the windes in 
a bag, hence th' wand'rings might have come to a 
close, had not th' inqnisitive sailours open'd the bag and 
allow'd severall to escape. Having but a single wind 
remaineing and that being westerly, they Avere swept farre 
awaie towards the setting sunne. They sawe Canibals 
which eate each other, calFd th' Antropophagi, or Lsestry- 
gones, and men whose heads grow beneath their shoulders. 

At length comming to the iland of Circe, th' en- 
cha'tresse, they are detained a yeare, as th' spells Circe 
threwe over the men chang'd them to swine, but by th' 
use of Moly, an herb that Mercury furnisht him, they 
were at once restor'd to their naturall fonne. Circe, how- 
ever, even though shee long'd to keepe Odysseus by her, 
assisted in manie ways when he set out againe. 



XI. 



Soone they came to the Oceanus, SAvift flomnge; 
visited the Cimmerii that dwell in pitchy night nor ere 
behold th' day. Thence he went into the nether-world 
and inquired of the seer, Teiresias, how hee might reach 
his farre-away native countrie, Ithica. The seer tells him 
Jove's wrath doth burne strongly against our bold wan- 
derer because of his injury to the gigantic Polyphemus, 
as he was sonne to one of th' gods, Poseido'. When this 
was said it made the blood in his vaines flow icylie, yet 
the seer told him whither he must saile, in orde' that he 
might reach his home. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 195 

XII. 

Upon his waye backe acrosse th' westeme sea, he 
againe visited Circe who fiirder asisted him, gave him 
advice, counseling him well regarding dangers he would 
meete. Passing th' place in which th' Sirens make their 
sweetest melodie (that they may cause th' destruction of 
the passers by, luringe them from a safe channell so that 
their vessell splits on a sunken rock ere one can see dan- 
ger) he ordered his companio's to binde him fast to th' 
mast, so that hearing the musicke and feeling its charme, 
he could not if he desir'd, follow them. The sailors heard 
not one sound, as Odysseus had giv'n them a charge, ere 
reachi'g the spot, all eares should now be made deafe to 
these songs by being well filled. 

So one dread peril is passed; then those more awefull 
dangers, Charybdis on one side and Scilla on th' other, 
threat them. Six of the sailors, dashed on th' sharp rocks, 
were kill'd, while all narrowlie escapt the Maelstrom that 
doth sucke shippes downe to the lower world. 

Yet, clearing these, they once more set their course to 
go to farr-off Ithica, coming nexte to Thrinatia, an island 
in the western sea in which Helios, th' sun-god, kept the 
famous cattell. Having in remembrance his instructio's 
that Teiresias had particularly impress'd on him, Odysseus 
attempted to passe by with speede and avoide the tempt- 
ing creatures, yet everie sailor was fuly determined to 
land; so whilst Odysseus was unmindfull of his men, or 
this purpose, as he lay lock'd i' the armes o' Sleep, they 
hastily killed these cattell — or a number of the'. Because 
of it Zeus, angrie and revengefull, sent his dreaded thun- 
der-bolt and wrecked the vessell killing all save Odyseus, 



196 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

preserving him because of his promise to Pallas Athene of 
his safe arrivall in Ithica. 

Hee also relateth to Alcinons — that known alreadie to 
the reader — th' stay at Ogygia, and Atlas' daughter's oifer 
of immortality; how no bliss could bee like his, could hee 
see his native land, th' wife of his bosome, Telemachus, his 
dear sonne, and his olde servants. 

XIII. 

This moveth King Alcinous to give him a shippe 
and send him forth on the homeward voyage. Tliis, 
then, was straightway accomplish'd — King, Queene, as 
vrell as gentle young princesse gave him manie rich robes 
and ornaments, costly articles of all kinds fit for th' ran- 
some of a great king, to carry to Ithaca that his travaile 
and toyles be rewarded. 

Sailing with an auspiciou' gale th' voyage was briefe 
and very soone th' harbour close by commeth to viewe. 
At dawne they enter to sounds that the joyous waves when 
driv'n by merry gales ever do make, yet not a note may 
reach an eare which is seeled by Sleepe; the wand'rer lieth 
lockt in th' dreamelesse slumber of th' dead, and they put 
into th' haven of Phorcys where their vessell lieth at rest 
without anchor or stay of any kinde, while ho is yet under 
th' spell, and th' Pha^acian sailors taking him up verie 
gently conveye both him and th' vast treasures to shore. 

Rowing thither and returning softly, they disembark 
the stores given him by Alcinou', Arete, or Nausicaa, and 
leaving him by the shore with soft sleepe on the senses, 
th' treasure heapt at his side, they proceed at once to 
returne unto their owne land. 

When th' sleeper waketh he doth still think that it is 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 19) 

a place not familiar, since he cannot at present discern 
th' port, Minerva having caste a niistie cloud upon every- 
thing, to keepe his presence secret; but after a short 
periode, shee, comming unto him and dispelling th' mists 
sheweth him th' olive-trees, that cave of th' nymphs on th' 
slope of th' hil, and the nimphes weaving their beauteous 
robes of purple hue, also loftie olde I^eritos with his bosky 
sides above this. 

He recogniz'd his beloved Ithaca then, and sta'ding 
near, th' goddesse spake thus unto him: "Thou art re- 
turned to Ithaca because I, Mine'va, ever watchfidl guided 
thy waye, guarding thy life where ever thou wert lest 
thy eager enemie slaye thee. Therefore wait with a 
patiente spirit and beare all th' evill that shall come to 
thee, for the day of the great vengeance is at hand." 

The goddesse ayding, hastilie they now co'ceal'd the 
gifts o' xilcinous, Arete and fairest Nausicaa, in th' cave 
fast by a streame of living water flowing into th' sea. 
Palla' then touch'd Odysseus with the wande she carried, 
soe that old age possess'd his form, making the limbes 
stiff and bent, whilst his face lookes old and wither'd and 
the abundant faire hair hardly can reach to his shoulders, 
and sparselie doth shewe. Then Athene caste a begger's 
wallet on his bended backe, shewed a well marked path 
leading up to th' dwelling of Eumaeus, th' swineherd, and 
bade th' traveler proceed to that place. 

XIV. 

Obedient to this mandate Odysseus approacht th' 
house. As he ent'red the courtyard, dogs bark'd with 
soe much furie the swineheard went to see what caus'd the 
confusion, then catching sight sodainelie of th' wanderer. 



198 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

qiiicklie he doth bring him in, biddeth him such welcome 
as th' house afforded spreading a skin for a couch, saying 
as wine is drunke: 

"Though I dwell still in this happie country it is not 
now like dales gone by, for now th' young chicfes govern, 
and th' friend whose love guarded us doth still staye away 
from his native land. Th' wife wasting her faire beautie 
In griefe doth looke for his returne, watching whilst others 
feast and sleepe, yet for my owne part I fear that he will 
fail to reach th' countrie of his nativity." 

Then th' stranger inquir'd what name bore a wanderer 
soe lov'd. Assuring th' faithfull old servitor that Odys- 
seus was yet alive, but fearing at present to make himselfe 
suspected hee narrateth instead, some advent'rous wan- 
d'rings claiming to have had thereby knowledge of th' 
long absente Odysseus, saying his vast wealth of treasures 
was at that very time to be scene in Thesprotia, for th' 
king of that land had shewn him th' same and told him 
it was the treasure of th' wand'ring king o' Ithaca. 

He moreover is ready to take oth that a yeares course 
of th' sunne will not bee ended ere Odysseus come home; 
but faithfull old Eumaeus cannot have faith in his prom- 
ises, since an ^Eolian had told once before of something- 
similar, saying hee, himselfe, at distant He of Crete had 
come upon th' Ithacan as he prepar'd to go out to sea, 
with Idomeneus' help maki'g whole th' vessels broken by 
storm and tempest, and quite assur'd that he would gain 
Ithaca ere summer waned. But he came not, and 
Eumaeus for his owne part wish'd all Hellen's kinne were 
no more, ere Odysseus spent his fortune, or gave soe much 
strength, soe many yeares of his young manhood, to 
avenge th' insulte. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 199 

XV. 

Meanwhile Pallas AthenaB doth appear to Telemachus 
in Sparta, as hee lieth sleeplesse on his ivory couch. 
A glist'ning- light fill'd his whole room, and Pallas 
said to him that he must returne to Ithaca, for th' daye of 
th' gi-eat vengeance was very near 'gainst th' suitors for 
despoyling faire Ithaca in th' long absence of Odysseus, 
nor need he fear them, altho' their heralds lying in ambush 
awaited his ship's appearance to take his life, for th' gods 
were watching and guarding the sonne to Odysseus; no 
harm should befall. Shee also bade him go to Eumseus' 
dwelling where he would be tolde what he should do. 

Acordingly, on the morrowe hee bids Menelaus and 
sweete Helen farewell and the Queene presenteth a robe 
her owne hands had wrought to give his bride on the day 
that his nuptialls bee celebrated, asking him in return to 
have [her] in his kind remembrance. 

From Sparta he once more went in to sandie Pylos and 
told Xestor and others what he would do. A soothesayer 
(who having slayne some person was now dreading pur- 
suit) named Theoclymenus beggeth Telemachus to have 
sufRcient kindnesse to take him upon this A'oyage to Ithaca. 

Setting saile, the shores of his native land were in due 
time to bee discern'd; at last they are gained and sending 
all of th' company to the city he alone hasten'd quickly to 
find olde Eumseus, th' herd. 

XVI. 

Great was the joye of Eumseus beholding him for, 
noe tidings having come from him, Eumseus had no 
hope of seeing him againe. Inquiring immediatelie of his 
friend if suters are yet crowding upon th' land and maki'g 



200 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

themselves lords of all, "or hath my mother, accepting 
one in marriage, left Ulysses' bridall bed to become th' 
possession of cobwebs, for lacko of other or proper fur- 
niture ?" 

But his kind friend eas'd his heart by telling him that 
th' host of sutors were yet kept at bay, noble Penelope 
being consta't in her hope that waiting would bee re- 
warded by fruition o' this love. After a time, when Tele- 
machus perceiveth a stranger there, he maketh inquiry 
concerning his designes and porte, saying that hee feareth 
to allowe him to visit his father's palace, th' sutors having 
much power now, might treat him ill. Whereupon Odys- 
seus, vexed, doth himself e put in a word and say : 

"Ah, these suitors, why do we heare of them no matter 
where we go? Do ye yield to them willinglie or do th' 
people hate thee, O Telemachus, or hast thou a quarrel 
with thy kinsmen, that thou hast thus sufiFer'd them to 
overrun this whole country?" 

But Telemachus hasten'd to answere : "I have no feud 
with my kindred, nor doe I of my owne free will yield to 
th' usurping crowd, but they have swarm'd in upon us 
like bees; and what would you? one can scarce prevaile 
against soe manie." 

As soone as Eumseus was gone upon a commission to 
th' city, Odysseus saw a very bright figure standing before 
him and recognized the goddesse. She bade him prepare 
for his great vengeance, to make himself known to Tele- 
machus, and proceede to his palace. Then she passed 
over him a wande which changed Ulysses' figure to beau- 
tiful proportiones, and gave his cheekes the rosy hue they 
had had in youth, while over th' rich garments hung his 
long lockes yellow as gold. 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 201 

Telemachus, niiich surprised, asked Ulysses: "Who is 
this standing here looking like to one of the bright gods?" 
Then Ulysses embract his dear sonne and wept asseverating 
that he was, verilie, Ulysses. 

But Telemachus could not yet trust these happy words 
and doubting said: "But men pass not thus from age to 
youth, from weaknesse, from want, povertie or squalor, to 
riches and strength." Ulysses made othe that it was Tele- 
machus' sire, affirming, "If I indeed be not Ulysses, none 
other will ever come to the coast of Ithaca." 

Noe longer might Telemachus doubt. Embracing his 
sire he lifted his voyce and together they lamented like 
birds from which th' young have beene stolen, even like 
vultures or eagles, and Ulysses asked: "How many are 
these suitors of whom all speakef And Telemachus 
made answer: "They may be recko'd by scores and what 
could two doe against such a number?" "If Jove and 
mighty Minerva lende us ayde it is sufficient," said Ulys- 
ses, "and better to dye fighting for our right than to yield 
weaklie." 

Th' sutors in th' meantime, who had waited in ambush 
to slay the prince on his homeward waye, much vex'd 
about the failure of all their subtile designes, return'd to 
Ithaca. Penelope thereupon reproved Antinous who was 
one of th' number. 

Eumseus came to report his experiences at evening, 
but th' stranger was againe in th' guise of a wand'ring 
beggar. 

XVII. 
When morn came againe, Telemachus went to the 
home of Odysseus and shortlie after he set out, his sire 
intreated Eumseus to permit him (Odysseus) to accom- 



202 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

paiiy him there. On th' wave, as they rest by the side 
of a foiintaine, a goatheard, hight Melanthius, revil'd 
Od^'sseus soe iiiiich that with utmost difficulty he staled 
liis; hand. 

Then they pass'd onward to th' citty and as they came 
to the pallace gate an aged hound rose to greete Ulysses 
but falling back expired. 

Then Odysseus wept saying: "Was this a comely hound 
^vhen young, swift and strong?" 

"Like th' wind for speed and nothing ever escap'd him 
in th' chase" said Eumseus. 

Upon entering the vast hall Odysseus soliciting an alms 
of Antinous entreatingly said: "Thou dost have the ap- 
pearance of gen'rous royalty. Give, and thou shalt winne 
oToat fame, for Jove shall surelie rewarde thee and I shall 
speake of thy bounty both near and far." Then he said 
lie also had great abunda'ce untill Jove tooke away his 
wealth and drove him to ..Egypt and to Cyprus where hee 
suffer'd ills noe tongue might tel. But Antinous strucke 
him on the backe saying: "Verily thou mayst go to a 
Cyprus or to an iEgypt thou likest not if thou haste not 
to depart." 

But th' rest who stoode looking on prayed him to 
beware, reminding him that immortall gods wander ofte i' 
lowly guise. Afterward th' suitors go into th' hall and 
Odysseus dropping his walle' beside him sate in th' doore- 
waye. 

XVIII. 

Ere long a publike beggar, named by th' suters Irus, 

since he was ofte a messenger emploied by them, commeth, 

and standing to begg, joyes to see Odysseus in a like or 

worse condition, ^or miserie wisheth all may share its 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 203 

wronges; and after a little time hee is ill-pleas'd that 
another hath sought bounty at th' pallace. Soone they are 
bandying wordes, nexte giving challenge, then Irus lieth 
prostrate, felled by one forcefull blow that broke the 
jawebone. 

Then are the on-lookeres dismaied least much worse ills 
lurke behind, for Ulysses then in a loud voyce addressing 
Amphinomus saith: ''Soone the great vengeance must 
suddenly come and low in th' dust thou shalt be laid by 
th' hand of mightie Ulysses, when he comming backe to 
his owne kingdome endeth Jove's impos'd punishment, 
slayeth the greedie chieftains that devoure his substance, 
striving together for th' faire wife, that having but her 

serva'ts as guides or protecting guard, suffer'd much by 

such actions." 

But Eurymachus hearing these words, anger'd and 
insulted, caste a stoole that overthrew the cup-beare'. 
Confusion everywdiere ran riot and at last they withdrewe 
one by one to the dwellings. 

XIX. 

Onelie the servants, th' attendants of his pallace are 
left and soone Ulysses, plotting destruction of th' multitude 
of wrong-doing idle suitors, alone, broods in sadnesse. 
Then commeth Telemachus to aide, Pallas also beeing 
with him, and together gath'ring up th' armes of th' 
sutors, Pallas with a light preceding as a guide, they stor'd 
them in th' innermost chamber. 

As Telemachus sawe th' gleaming pillars he said : 'TVTy 

father, surelie one of th' divine gods hath enter'd with us. 

Beholde th' bright fir-tree columnes, they burne as with 
flame, on all sides pillers shine as though blazing with 



204 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

eelestiall glory. Truly wonders here shew on everie 
hand." But rest is necessarie now and Telemachus is 
bidden to seeke his nightes repose. 

Soone Odysseus retumeth in silence to th' hall, yet 
iiieditati'g th' vengeance he would take upon these suters 
untill late. Penelope then apeareth, seeming as Venus 
or Diana in th' fairenesse and beautie of moulde and th' 
grace of movement. Shee seateth herself e beside the fire, 
bids th' servant bring Odysseus to sit on one side, inquir- 
ing whence he is, also who, yet he tells her not. With 
ease hee doth nari'ate a tale that is not a true historic of 
his wandering's, since he feareth he may bee betray'd; 
shee in her simple heart believeth it, and telleth how her 
beauty was wasted in heavy griefc for Ulysses, as he sail'd 
away to Illium to avenge fayre Helen's wicked, shame- 
lesse act; she tells him how th' suitors harass'd lier, and 
of lier shrewde device in order to gain a little time, saying 
to them shee must first complcate for Laertes the woven 
mantle she had yet to prepare 'gainst his buriall, how at 
eve ravelling out all she had done in th' daie, th' suters 
were made to thinke her labor would soone be done, for 
seeing her diligence in th' daytime, noe one suppos'd she 
was making no progTCS. For more then three whole 
yeares did this ruse availe, but in th' fourth th' suters 
learned of her deceit and angrily demanded immediate 
response. 

But though inquiring oft of his former surroundings, 
his birth etcsetera, nothing induc'd him to open his storie 
to her, but he feign'd to her constantlie. After long 
speeche sitting there by th' cheerfull fire, Penelope sum- 
mon'd th' friendlie old servante, Euryclea, to wash his 
feete. Tt was the nurse Odysseus had in his infancy, and 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSBS. 205 

hee doth attempte to tiirne from th' fire lest she might 
see the scar that was made by the boar's tuske when he 
hunted on Parnassus in his early youth. She would verily 
discover anie marke and tell th' household, so when she 
speaks saying she knowes 'tis Odysseus, her child, for hee 
is so like him in his strong handes and feete, his answer 
is that frequentlie th' peculia' likenesse had beene noted; 
but when, discovering th' scar, she exclaimeth that she 
doth well knowe th' wound made by the boar's tuske, for 
notwithstanding it was throughlie heal'd by Autolycus it 
left a scarre, Odysseus in alarm catching her by the throat 
shouteth angrily: "Silence, woman, or thou too must 
fare ill. Commit this to the gods." But this came not 
to Penelope's eares, th' goddesse, Minerva, having turn'd 
away her face. 

Then the nurse in haste brought more water and bathed 
him, for the other had beene spilt, when, sitting opposite 
Penelope by th' fireside, the conversation on her favourite 
or sole theme was taken up againe, yet Odysseus taketh 
holde o' th' olde rags and keepeth his scarre cover'd from 
sight. 

XX. 

After a time no sound is heard throughout Ulysses' 
palace. Pallas appeareth to shewe him what he should 
do, strength'ning th' heart in his breast by her wordes. 
At first it doth seeme that it were fitting that he slay th' 
unfaithfull female servants, most bitterly feeling a want 
of trust in his household, but on furder consideration he 
doth think Avell to wait. 

At their feast later the suitors put a deal of man on 
his Sonne, arousing soe mightily his great spiritt that 
Theoclymenus prophesieth their sudden destruction. They 



206 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

turne th' prophecie to foolish mockery, and laugh th' seer 
to scome. 

XXI. 

Penelope coming unto the suitors, declareth no man 
can have her to wife that cannot draw th' mighty bowe 
of Odysseus. "Hee that is strong like to Ulyses shall lead 
me away to a new home, yet of this shall a dream abide 
still." 

Great is their consternation. Antinous wil not handle 
the weapon, fully co'vinc'd hee hath not abilitie to draw 
or even, verilie, bend slightlie th' bowe of Odysseus; but 
EurjTnachus doth take holde on it, and warm it, attempt- 
ing to make it to some degree pliant, and saith: "Not 
that I greatly desire to marrie Ulysses' wife, for many 
others are fairer in Achaia; not Ithaca onelie but manie 
a citty hath fairer dames. It is not that, yet should I 
sorrowc, for 'twould be disgrace to us if posterity should 
hear that we could not even bend th' bowe of great 
Ulyses." 

Antinous doth persuade his minde so that hee, desist- 
ing, laies th' bow aside. Then they pour out wine offering 
a libation that Apollo, appeased, should lende his aide. 
Then the old stranger cometli as if it would be possible, 
by any meanes, in his age to compete with such men, but 
Antinous, scornfullie doth withhold the bowe taunting 
him with ill-grace. However his winged wordes are cut 
short by Penelope, and reproving him for his discourtesy 
to their guest shoe saith to him: "Doe not fear least th' 
stranger, if successefull, should lead me awaie, for if he 
can drawe the strong bowe, a new coat or timick shall be 
awarded him." 



ARGUMENT OP THE ODYSSES. 207 

But at this her sonne, Telemachus, maketh reply: 
" 'Twere well if it be left for mee to make proofe, as 
might appear to mee best, of all that wish, or that I 
deem worthie of th' honour of contending." Thereupon 
the strife was subdued for a little Mobile and Ulysses said: 
"Ye may very well leave it unto the gods." 

Meantime he had reveal'd hi'selfe to th' oxheard, 
Philsetius. With manie tears he had given a pledge to 
aide Odysseus, the swineheard seconding him, consequent- 
lie it was arrang'd to have Eumseus cany the weapon to 
Ulysses and place it in his aged and weakly hand. 

As the bowe was handed to him, he first adjusted the 
string as lightly and deftly as a musitian doth tune his 
slacken'd harpe, and, lifting it, sped a shaft through th' 
ring. 

XXII. 

Soone th' arrowe was aimed toward Antinous — the 
young chieftaine lay prone. Another and anothe' were 
sent swiftlic forth, and the wounded, dead or dying lay 
in heapes, and gore ran in rivers on th' floore. A with- 
drawal was impossibl' because order to bar the entrance 
Avas given, before th' deadly strife, which Euryclea had 
done, th' gate being bound up with tackle. 

Ulysses havi'g exhausted his quiver, plact a helmet 
upon his bare head, snatch'd shield and speare, and stood 
forth a bold hero to menace th' throng. But he sawe 
that opposite him were arrai'd sev'ral of th' sutors arm'd 
with shields, spears, terrorising helmets with long noddi'g 
plumes, and whatever appertaineth to a warriour. As 
they continuallie presse furde' forwards, Ulysses noteth 
that the}' get th' amies from some of Odysseus' proper 
household. 



208 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Caling Telemachus he maketh inquirie regarding it. 
The latter, fearing it may be by his owne fault, in leaving 
ajar a door to the inner roome where the sutors' armes 
were concealed, doth waite untill he seeth Melanthius 
supply others with shining speares, and helmets with nod- 
ding plumes. Then he fals on th' knave, and with th' 
ayde of Eumseus, hoisteth him on high and biddeth him 
keep watch from that airie hammocke. 

Then Pallas came to them in the guise of wise Mentor, 
and both Ulysses and the sutors hoped for ayde, the latter 
saying to him that hce should aby it dear if he did not 
joyne them. Ulysses hoping it was to be shewne that he 
was assisted by the heavenly divinities, and also that this 
would prove to be Minerva, felt his heart throb gladly, 
but the voyce said in stern tones: "Odysseus, where is 
now thy strength, as when at wide-way'd Troy thou didst 
hew down soe many Trojans? and it was by thy wisdome 
that th' cittie was overthrowne. Kise now in thy might 
and shewe an invincible spirit." 

Without giving assistance either to one or the other, 
Minerva rose to th' roofe, and sitting high in aire watcht 
th' progresse of the conflicte, sometimes however guiding 
th' weapons lest they might too sorely buffet Odysseus or 
his friends. But when th' combat had lasted some time, 
Telemachus being woiinded in th' wrist and Eumaens in 
the shoulder, she lifted her ^Egide shield, and the suitoi-s 
in dismay were sodainelie vanquisht. 

Next Odysseus, sending messages to manie parts of 
the pallace, gave strict command that the slaine bee 
remov'd, th' whole place cleans'd and purged, and th' 
unchaste servants of his household imprisoned where 
none could attempte reskewe. 



ARGUMENT OP THE ODYSSES. 209 

Hastilj obeying these commands, his servants soone 
made all most faire, for Ulysses' returne rejoyc'd th' 
faithfiiU attendants of Penelope. Not yet did shee her- 
self e even know of Ulysses' presence; however Eiiryclea 
shortlie went to tell her the glad tidings, for Minerva 
wonld that she be kept secluded untill all was prepared. 

XXIII. 

After she had ent'red, for a long time she kept silence, 
in her hart doubting that this stranger who had perform'd 
these wonderfull deedes might be some other then her 
long-absente, well-beloved lord. But when she gave 
directio's for the preparation at once of the bridal couch, 
saying: "Let it be plact outside th' chamber," and 
Odysseus spake in quick tones making inquiry: "Where 
then have you plact the bed my hands did fashion, when 
round the venerable tree in this court o' my pallace I 
contriv'd our curiously wrought bridall chamber? There 
I put th' massive couch, so heavy with gold and silver, 
fayre ivory as well, — 'twere a sinew'd man could lifte 
from its place a bed like that, — and over it I cast a 
purple bul's-hide very richly dyed," she knewe it was 
indeed Odysseus and running up fell on his necke. 

Soone hee related the story of his reall adventures and 
felt a new thankfulnes for th' help A'ouchsaf'd to him, 
but realized that no true abiding place was there for his 
feete. 

On the following day Ulysses with Telemachus, 
Eumseus and Phila?tus armed in shining brasse set out 
to visit Laertes. It was already light ere they could go 
forth, but Minerva cover'd them from sight with a misty 
cloud. 



210 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

XXIV. 

Th' last booke containeth an account of Mercury's 
descent into Hades with th' soules of th' slaughtered 
suitors. 

Thereafter an uprising amongst th' friends of th' latter 
made an insurrection, which was quell'd by the inter- 
ventio', at th' decisive momente, of watchfuU Minerva. 
Eupeithes who was their leader being slaine, she warned 
Ulysses, lest he anger Jove, it would be well to cease, 
and gave the pledge or othe upon both sides, likened in 
form and in voyce, as at a former time, to Mentor. 

This doth conclude this part of the worke. 

JiText th' opening lines wall bee found, and keiewords 
which are your aides in joining th' parts of our Epick. 

The verses followe here: 

"Sing, sing to me O Muse, of one to whom 

Some rare expedient was never wanting, 

Who, when proud Ilium he had orethrowne, 

Wander'd afarre that he in many lands 

Might see faire citties and observe the wayes 

Of distant countries: yet to him there came 

Much heavie suffering in that strong minde 

Devising meanes himselfe and mates to save. 

Infatuate men! little indeed wot they, 

Ere Helios' fair herde was rashlie slaughter'd. 

No man could shielde them, nor would ere again 

Keturn to their faire land bring joy and rest. 

O thou faire goddesse, from high Jove sprung forth, 

Sing of these sorrowes!" 



ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 211 

No more of our Odysses is given here excepting, of a 
truth, our numerous keyes, and these are oft similar, as 
noe doubt you will note, to manie that are alreadie used 
in th' Iliads; but no confusion can arise, as th' words 
which joine the portions are sufficient. These I name 
simplie joining-words, as such use must bee made of them 
as a builder maketh of th' markes that are frequentlie 
noted on timbers and stones that th' farre-seeing planner 
doth already, to his mindes eye, picture, fitted into a 
structure Time itselfe can little alter. 

Key-wordes follow: first, the heavenly beings, — god- 
desses, gods and spirites, demy-gods or heroes; th' ruler 
or god that controles th' ocean, Poseidon, with the whole 
traine of sea-gods, nymphes, and attenda'ts; the god of 
th' underworld, Pluto, with every spirit of that realme; 
Olympus, Ida, Pergamos, Hellespontus, Troy, Trojans, 
Grecians, Thrace, siege, battaile, flight, vessels, tempest, 
wrack, haven, rocks. Calypso, immortality, Penelope, 
Telemachus, Sparta, Hellen, Menelaus, jS^estor, sage, 
Theoclymenus, Argos, murther, ambuscade, swineheard, 
adventures, Eumgeus, ship, Phseacian sailors, present, 
l^ausicaa, Alcinous, Arete, Cicones, Cyclops, Cimmerii, 
winds, Circe, sorceresse, Ulysses, mates, enchantment, 
swine, Teiresias, Scylla, Charybdis, isle, Siren, Helios, 
cattel, perill, Ithica, suitors, web, bowe, stranger, ven- 
geance, servantes, Laertes, insurrection, conquest, oathe, 
Mentor, voyce and forme. 

FRANCISCI, BARONIS DE VERULAMIO, 

Vice-Comitis Sancti Albani. 

De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum is ended. 



FEANCIS BACO^. 



NEW ATLANTIS. 



I am named in th' world, not what my stile should bee 
according to birth, nor what it rightfuUie should be accord- 
ing to our law, which giveth to the first-borne o' th' royall 
house, (if this first-borne be a sonne o' th' ruling prince, 
and borne in true and right wedlocke) th' title of th' Prince 
o' Wales. My name is Tidder, yet men speak of me as 
Bacon, even those that knowe of my royal mother, and her 
lawfuU marriage with th' Earle o' Leicester, a suitable time 
prior to my birth. 

Queenes are not like common folk. They often con- 
trole opinions as well as their estates, and Elizabeth's strong 
will was not one that could be resisted. Her policy made 
Parliament and her Privy-Counsel each suppose, not onely 
that their wisedome did soc govern England, but that she 
herself was, (in a degree truly wondrous for a descendant 
o' th' line o' kings, like th' royall sire and grandsire o' 
famous memory) control'd by advisement of th' men that 
compose these bodies. Iso doubt they did not lack occa- 
sion at one time and another to modify this notion, yet her 
witt was seldome unequall to occasion, while a perplexitie 
rather sharpen'd then dull'd, and actuall danger made as a 
two-edged sword. Thus men were often dazzled by the 
sword, and not many that used this edg'd weapon escaped 
without deepe scarres. My hands — aye, my head as well, 
more then all, my heart — are sorelie wounded; for in a 
breath, my royall mother disclos'd our relationship and 



NEW ATLANTIS. 2lS 

cursed my nativity: nor could I, in the numerous subse- 
quent encou'ters, change her hasty decisio' upon that very 
important question of th' succession. 'Tis said: '^The curse 
that was not deserv'd never will come." Some may finde 
it true, but to me a causelesse curse did surely come, and 
my entire life felt th' blighte. 

Neverthelesse, to Robert Cecil I owe much o' this secret, 
underhand, yet constant opposition: for from th' first hee 
was th' spy, th' informer to th' Queene, of all the boyish 
acts of which I had least cause or reason for any pride. 
This added fuel to the flame of her wrath, made me the 
more indiscreete, and precipitated an open disagi-ement, 
which lasted for some time, 'tweene my foster-mother. 
Lady Anne Bacon, and the woman who bore me, whom 
however I seldom name with a title so sacred as mother. 
In truth, Cecil work'd me nought save evill to th' daie 
which took him out o' this world. 

Through his vilde influence on Elizabeth, hee fill'd her 
minde with a suspition of my desire to rule th' whole 
world, beginning with England, and that my plann was 
like Absalom's, to steale th' hearts of the jSTation and move 
th' people to desire a king. He told her that my every 
thought dwelt on a crowne; that my onelie sport amid my 
school-mates was a pageant of royalty; that 'twas my hand 
in which th' wooden staife was plact, and my head that 
wore th' crowne, for no other would be allowed to repre- 
sent princes or their pompe. He inform'd Her Ma. that 
I would give a challenge to a fierce boyish fight, or a 
duello of fists, if any one presum'd to share my honours 
or depose me from my throne. 

In due time th' Queene, afraide of these ominous por- 
tents, sent for good Paulet and arranged that under pre- 



214 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

texte of great importe, I should accompany our arabassage 
to France. I was plact in th' care of Sir Amyias and left 
th' shores of my o^vn faire land without a moment of warn- 
ing, soe to speak. Th' Queene by her [power] royall, and 
her rights maternall, readily overrul'd all our several objec- 
tions. No teares on part o' my dear foster-mother, nor 
entreaties o' that o' grave Sir N. Bacon avail'd, while I, 
as soone as my first protest had been waived, occupied my 
fantasy lioure after houre, picturing to myselfe th' life in 
forraine lands. 

Th' fame of th' gay French Court had come to me even 
then, and it was flattering to th' youthfull and most naturall 
love o' th' affaires taking us from my native land, inasmuch 
as th' secret commission had been entrusted to me, which 
required much true wisdome for safer, speedier conduct 
then 'twould have if left to th' common course o' businesse. 
Soe with much interessed, though sometimes apprehensive 
minde, I made myselfe ready to accompanie Sir Amyias 
to that sunny land o' th' South I learn'd soe supremely to 
love, that afterwards I would have left England and every 
hope o' advancement to remain my whole life there. Nor 
yet could this be due to th' delights of th' country, by 
itselfe, for love o' sweete Marguerite, th' beautifull young 
sister o' th' king (married to gallant Henri th' King o' 
Navarre) did make it Eden to my innocent heart, and even 
when I learn'd her perfidie, love did keepe her like th' 
angels in my thoughts half o' th' time — as to th' other half 
she was devilish, and I myselfe was plung'd into hell. This 
lasted duri'g many yeares, and, not untill four decades or 
eight lustres o' life were outliv'd, did I take any other to 
my sore heart. Then I married th' woman who hath put 
Marguerite from my memorie — rather, I should say, hath 



NEW ATLANTIS. 2l6 

banisht her portrait to th' walles of memorie, onely, where 
it doth hang in th' pure, nndimmed beauty of those early 
dayes — while her most lovelie presence doth possesse this 
entire mansion, of heart and braine. 

Yet here I have a little digress'd, although the matter 
doth appertaine unto my story at a later period. When 
Sir Amyias Paulet became avised of my love, he propos'd 
that he should negotiate a treaty of marriage, and appro- 
priately urge on her pending case o' the divorce from the 
young Huguenot; but for reasons of very grave importance 
these buds of an early marriage never open'd into flower. 
But the future race will profit by th' failure in the field of 
love, for in those flitting dales afterward, having resolv'd 
to cover every marke of defeate with th' triumphs o' my 
minde, I did thoroughly banish my tende' love dreams to 
th' regions o' clouds as unreall, and let my works of vari- 
ous kinds absorb my minde. It is thus by my disappoint- 
ments that I do secure to many, fruition. 

Those whose chief desire is Sckmtio will rejoyce in my 
experiments in ISTaturall Sciences, for they have greatly 
increas'd the knowledge which was in th' world. Some- 
thing have my labours done for other claimants, and Phil- 
osophic and th' Arts have gained by no meanes slightly by 
my labour, for I took no respite for yeares. It is to make 
my decypherer industrious I urge this upon the attention 
soe frequently. I have learn'd well how much a wise use 
of time saveth, and I "wish most deeply to stampe my pre- 
cepts upon th' minde, at th' very earliest opportunitie and 
upon my latest appearance, as a guide in th' labirinth of 
Cyphers. 

It is to this husbandry — this guarding 'gainst losse that 
I do owe a large — aye th' greater portion o' this work in 



2i6 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACOK. 

Cypher. When a care of the minutes hath been learnt — a 
care almost miserlie, in truth — his next taske, quite simi- 
lar, is that of holding to it faithfullie. This work perhaps 
more then any other which is kno^\^le to mankind needeth 
continuance. As in a race he that hath greatest endurance 
doth come out before him of greatest speede, so here, like- 
wise, hee who can long followe this Cipher is sure to winne 
an easy triumphe over him that soone tireth and leaveth 
the course. 

It was necessarie to be wary: wee have spoken little 
therefore in anie single place, eyther of the subjects that 
are fully treated in the Cyphers or the rules for their easy 
unfolding: indeed a man of wit shall finde our stories and 
plays before he doth see the rules and arguments, if he be 
not a patient man, or especially if bird-witted — flying on 
swdftest pinions and never resting upon the leafie boughs 
longer then until he finde one olive leafe; but when his 
waie becometh difficile he hath but weake aides, if he finde 
not the diverse arguments which I put in many places in 
the bi-literall and clocke Ciphers. 

Labour, I doe entreate thee, with all dilligence to draw 
forth th' numerous rules for use in writing out these secret 
workes. It is now the onely desire that hath likelihood of 
grand fulfillment, but so great is our faith that posterity 
shall give honour unto our name, here and in the distant 
lands beyond th' seas, our eiforts are, as it might be said, 
tirelesse and unceasing to carry out even the least portions 
of our marvellous work to perfection. 

Unto God do we lift up our soules imploring of Him 
aide, blessing, and light for the illumination o' the workes 
which wee leave. 



FRANCIS BACON. 

SYLVA SYLVARUM; OR NATURAL HISTORY. 

RAWLEY'S PREFACE. 

Illy his lordship's works succeed when he is dead, for 
the Cypher left inco'plete I have noAv finished. As you 
must note, th' Court papers told the world no secrets, yet 
I have stumblingly proceeded with it and unwitti'gly used 
some letters wro'gly as B, I, L, M, N, P, S and Z. 

When, however, you find this change in the eighth 
Centurie where I beganne th' worke, you shall pause 
awhile, then use the alphabet as it is heerein employ'd and 
as explained in my preceding epistle. It will thus be like 
a new kind of alphabet and doubtlesse will bee trouble- 
some, yet can bee conn'd while some had to be discover'd; 
but in respect of a probable familiaritie with th' worke, and 
the severall diverse methods employed oft by his lordship, 
this may by no meanes be requir'd, since th' wit that could 
penetrate such mysteries surely needeth no setti'g forth and 
enlarging of mine. 

Ere the whole question be dropt, however, let me bid 
you go on to my larger and fully arranged table where th' 
storie, or epistle, is finish'd as it should have beene had his 
lordship lived to compleat it, since my part was but that of 
th' hand, and I did write only that portion which was not 
us'd at th' time. All this was duely composed and written 
out by his hand, and may bee cherish'd. 



218 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON 

From hi? penne, too, works which now bear th' name 
Burton — containing in them th' symboll, word, bi-literall, 
clocke, and severall anagramme Ciphers put forth — make 
useful those portions which could by noe means bee 
adapted to dramaticall MTitings. If you doe not use them 
as you decypher th' interiour epistles, so conceal'd, your 
story shall not be compleat. 

Th' workes are in three divisio's entitled, Melancholy, 
Its Anatomy. Additions to this booke have beene by direc- 
tion of Lord Yerullam, himselfe, often by his hand, whilst 
th' interiour letter, carried in a number of ingenious 
Cyphers mentioned above, is from his pen, and is the same 
in every case that he would have used in these workes, for 
his is, in verie truth, worke cut short by th' sickel of Death. 

Turn next as instru'ted to my co'pleate table of the 
matter treated, or experiments set downe, and carry the 
scret story to its conclusio'. This doth folio we directly 
upon the body of the worke as it should, had it beene in- 
corporate with it. 

WILLIAM RAWLEY. 



FRANCIS BACON. 



NATURAL HISTORY. 



Every worke contains portions of mj Cypher history: 
many that have great matters o' which no suspicion should 
be rais'd while I live, are written in the Latine, and are 
the lesse likely to be prematurelie found; for I doe not 
'WTite these in expectation or desire of rousing such atten- 
tion as shall jeopardize the story (hid much as our rules 
and sundry directions are hidden, onely not so oft repeated, 
for the readie eie o' my closest reader) built out of some 
stories great poetes have writ, or sung, that I turn'd into 
the best English of my day, to use in my Cypher. 

Finding that one important story within manie others 
produc'd a most ordinarie play, poem, history, essay, law- 
maxime, or other kind, class, or description of work, I 
tried th' experiment of placing my tra'slations of Homer 
and Virgil within my other Cypher. When one work has 
been so incorporated into others, these are then in like 
manner treated, separated into parts and widely scattered 
into my numerous books. When th' task has been com- 
pleated, and this little Ciphe' (thus contrived to ayde you 
in the writing) put into place, it is ready for the pub- 
lishing. 

Seeke it out by carefull attentio' to the simple rules 
which pointe your course: directions she we each part of 
the worke so fully, (my designe is so farre worked out in 
such other accompanying Cyphers as best will teach this 
invention) that the unfolding doth seem like as it were 



220 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

o' itselfe. Indeed von may write meerelie as the hired 
assista't whose worke is tliat of a man's hand, or penne, 
not of his thonght, braine, or minde, inasmuch as my 
thought has inform'd every portion, as the minde doth the 
bodie. 

At no time shal your appearance in mine emploie bee 
deem'd anie otherwise then that of an amanuensis, yet, 
sir, all dues of honour shal be yours, in this and the com- 
ing ages, since it is wholly by this meanes that the greatest 
things of this age can be revealed. Much doth it behoove 
everie man to be wise, prudent, and of gTeat care to avoid 
the obloquy the vulgar are ever likelie to cast on anyone 
more fortunate then themselves; thus I, constantly heed- 
ing this, have kept the secret of my birth many years 
longer than was absolutely necessary, lest seeking to ac- 
([uire that which, while most truly my right, beeing settled 
by my royall mother upon my cousin, could not well be 
reclaimed, I might loose thereby many worthie honours I 
had wonne by labor as fruitfull and widelj^ scattered, in- 
deed, as any workes of Nature. 

This however is told in full ; I do but make mention of 
it here. Seeke it out if you have not alreadie found it, 
and make a full historic of my owne life and times. The 
men who live in the world will much valew a worke so 
hidden and preserv'd when I shall be no more a living 
historian and philosopher, since all should seeme to em- 
bodie my invention, and to be the sound of my long 
unheard voyce, which speaks to them in tones well remem- 
ber'd. 

Yet must I owe to you the favo' of making this voyce 
sound the sweet music o' song. T can but frame the verses 
for your penne, and leave a work of Time unto Time's 



NATURAL HISTORY. 221 

mastery. Your dutie although somewhat dull is of so 
great importancy, I am assured that it doth requite the 
pains, but my great fear is lest a wearinesse overcome you 
ere this Cypher, or the Word Cypher may be fully work'd 
out. Doe me not so meane a service as leaving this work 
unfinished, I do entreate you. Make it my monument to 
marke the end of labour for my f ellowe-men, — principallie 
the advancement and dissemination of knowledge, 3^et 
much for th' pleasing of men's mindes, while setting forth 
my other history, — for I give you my assurance that the 
worke is worthy o' preservacion. 

One must give as gTeat a portion o' time as seven daies 
in the weeke can furnish, and must not use many houres 
for recreation, would he leave ought o' any value to men, 
for life is so short. It is for this cause that I use my time 
so miser-like, never spending a moment idly, when in 
health. Oft my table seemes to me as a study, and I too 
frequently invite my friends when my minde seemes more 
upon my worke then my guests; yet do I accompt my repu- 
tation as an host not of the M-orse, inasmuch as I do con- 
verse with great ease, and (as hath beene said) with so 
much spiritt and wit that none know or imagine my absorp- 
tion. Many times have I thus made the plot of a story in 
minde while great lords sat at the table, follow'd many of 
my experimentes to indisputable conclusions, or contrived 
a newe Cipher. 

You will observe a rule by which I separated the parts 
or divisions; this rule will, per contra, put them together 
in the original] order. Thus, when the keyes are found, 
take a part of that for your story, then follow the same 
key until some o' th' mdely open doores be entered, and 
some idea bee form'd of the method of th' hidden Cyphe'. 



222 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Follow this to its inner folio, nor unbende until the whole 
of my Cipher historie be written. 

It is behoovefull, as indeed wee know, that none o' this 
worke attract attention while I remaine here, and for 
another quite manifesto reaso' th' Cyphers are not as justly 
work'd out i' my later and larger bookes as I had intended 
to do, for lacke of time is something no man could over- 
come. Surely my hand and braine have but short rest. 
I firmly beleeve it were not in th' power of humane beings 
to do anie more then I have done, yet I am but partlie 
satisfied. 

The chief e msh I now have is to continue my rightfuU, 
humble, yet truly worthy workes for my toyling fellowes, 
who wrestle in blind helplessness with th' forces of Nature. 
We that know the manifold mightie influences of unseen 
things, owe more of this knowledge of our environings to 
the light from our Celestiall Source then to our investiga- 
tions. Therin lieth the duty we owe to our fellowe-men, 
for do not our Scriptures say: Freely ye have received, 
so must ye in like manner give? This then doth urge me 
ever on, up to heights of knowledge that no one hath ever 
reached. 

Make a table, as hath beene alreadie said, putting therin 
the names that I have taken in the worke, and also mark 
that each doth represent one of my numerous penne names. 
When a word has many times been used, making what you 
would thinke, many times, very uselesse and questionable 
averments, you will tume to your small table, and finding 
it has beene put upon it, you begin a course or hunt for 
certaine other words, — keies I have named them, — but 
keepe the same catche, or guide-words from place to place. 
A small tilda, or mark of this kinde is used, sometimes, to 
catch your attention, and ayde in th' search for keyes. 



NATURAL HISTORY. 223 

The mark is often put inside letters, and as I have already 
said, is neare key-words. 

My word-signs are scatt'red with most prodigall hand, 
not onely in the prose, but also in the diverse other workes. 
In many places you may finde them named as joyning- 
wordes, this manner shewing their use, which is to bring 
parts together. You must likewise keep in minde one 
A'^ery important rule : it is, that like must be joyn'd to like. 
Match each key with words of a like meaning, like nature, 
or like origin. These are sometimes called, in many prose 
pamphlets and th' workes of philosophy or science, con- 
jugates, connaturalls and similars or parallels. 

This doth unite parts in such a nianer that you can 
write in perfection my many stage-plaies, histories, poemes, 
translations of Homer, Ovid, and (and) Virgil, and many 
French poems writen at an early age, and little worth save 
to finish the historie that they complete, — indirectly it 
is true, nor too fully, but with such passion that he who 
doth put it downe is sure to take it up againe. It sheweth 
forth my love for mine angelic-faced, softe-eyed Mar- 
guerite of th' South-land — SM^eet White Rose of my lone 
garden of th' heart. 

My table of keyes by which each of the many workes 
were prepared, you may have found while making out 
this Cypher; they have beene placed in most of my books, 
but in manifolde wayes, as well as in many places, in 
order that my Cipher story of mine earliest yeeres, be 
not writen while I stay in this land of my birth and right- 
full inheritance. It is for this cause that little of your 
subject matter occupies one space, yom' numerous instruc- 
tions so widely dispersed, nothing given with any due con- 
cern as to sequence, changes (often unexpected) from one 



384 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

place to another, with nmch other and entir'ly foraine 
matter introduced to make this to appeare principal! in 
the intention. 

Yet the trulie dilligent worker and ingenious decipherer 
may not thus easily be let or missled, and I shall rest ill 
in my minde for this manie a long day, least this fox may 
chance to be unkennelled too early. It is not feare, but 
disstaste of th' unseemely talk and much curiosity of the 
many who read these Cypher histories, and it is worth 
your time spent i' the long labour, if I have my inventions 
so perfected that nothing may thwart my designes. 

My time of feare went from me with my greatness, but 
I still wish to avoid many questionings, — and much sus- 
picion, perchance, on the side of the king, in his o^\me 
prope' person. I have neede of the very caution which 
kept these secrets from the many, when my mother made 
me swear secrecy, and my life was the forfeit; nor may 
I now speake openly, yet many men for a kingdome would 
break their oathes. 

But my kingdome is in immoitall glory among men 
from generatio' unto comming generations. An unend- 
ing fame will erowne my browe, and it is farre better 
worth in any true thinking minde, I am assured, then many 
a erowne which kings do have set on with shewe and 
ceremonie. Yet when I have said it, my heart is sad for 
the great wrong that I must forever endure. 

Seeke th' key-words if you would find th' secrets T shall 
A^Tite or anie alreadie told, for a newe name must now bee 
given him who shewes here written some pages of his 
hidden history. This you may finde clearly tolde in the 
Word-Cypher if it be still to seeke, but as I have mentioned 
it in severall places T must be allow'd the hope that you 



NATURAL HISTORY. 325 

have found the letter I have written which contains the 
directions in itself for a Cypher of a very great valew 
for my purposes. 

I shewe many truths of the affaires of th' times that 
you have not founde told by my fellow-historians, for 
none kno^ve this page of history as the Queene — and a 
few others that dar'd not reveal it — ^knew it, and fear'd 
it. What will grow therfrom, is unknowne, yet none 
living save one man, besides the one most interested, 
standeth in this historie. These two are myself — one who 
by rights should be th' King of England, the last o' the 
honour'd line of rulers of whom none was more honour'd 
then was my mother, Queene Elizabeth, (and none lesse 
justlie so), the other is His Ma. th' King, (Charles) 
important onely as th' sonne o' th' man who ruled his 
owne kingdome, that of Scotland, and mine, that o' Eng- 
land. 

The principall reason which makes my heart sad shall 
then be seen more fully. It is one quite such as Xature. 
herself e doth place within us, — the love o' power with 
desire for right and justice, and though you stand farre 
removed from me in time (this I doubt not) it is still 
my surest hope that you may not let my story lie hidden 
from all eies, but will winne just renowne among men by 
writing, in many tong-ues, the C^ypher which my writings 
hold within them. As the worke would scantily paye 
such of the hunting men as must be rewarded promptlie, 
and who can never seeke patientlie secrets that be of a 
greater worth then any history otherwise giv'n, especially 
if it may be through waves that do turne many times 
backe and forth, you are, I do assure you, alone in this 
adventure. 



326 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Many who ride to th' chase turne back their steedes 
before th' fox runs to cover; the game is too swift, or, 
as oft may happen with one having a steed of gTeat spirit, 
he is left by a hedge and must helpe himself in as good 
humour as possible: so in quests of this sorte they will 
not winne that fall by the wayside, nor they that turne 
back ere the end. 

My labyrinth is tortuous, guarded by a Minotaur more 
fierce than th' one in Crete, and as watchfull as a Cerberus. 
It is myselfe that watcheth as ''they that prevent the 
morning," lest I be betraied by some Judas or modeme 
Sinon, and I trust that the meanderings leade the feet in 
apparentlie meaningless waies, so that the places seeme 
not noteworthy to th' observer, in which I have put the 
keyes, while others having no important matter have beene 
prepared in a way that arouses curiosity. FaiTe fro' hei- 
neste, the Lapwing cries, away; and I have thus farre 
met M'ith unhoped, even unthought of results, insomuch 
that now T foare that my whole labour may be lost. 

But faith is triumphant, and th' doubts are generally 
conquered; for we do place men's powers i' rank, not so 
farre beneath our owne that we give waye to distrust. 
This that is cast wide upon darke waters may some daye 
bring a reward to one who did not so we th' grain nor 
plough th' ground; but when it shall be, my fame must 
exceed his. This that I do, ever must be held of such 
value that the work of him who carries it forward can 
but be, as hath beene formerly mentioned, second to mine. 

You now must use other plays which are combin'd, in 
the maimer of the many already used, as follows: Peele's 
comedy of The Old Wives' Tale; and Shakespeare, his 
Twolfo Night, or What You Will; Comedv of En-ors; 



NATURAL HISTORY. 327 

Midsommer Night' Dreame; As You Like It; Love'i 
Labour Lost, and Th' Two Gentlemen of Verona. Next 
Greene's Pinner of "Wakefield, with the Merchant of 
Venice ; to these join the Arraignement o' Paris of Peele, 
and The Taming o' the Shrew, Marlowe's Jew o' Malta, 
and second Doctor Fausstus, Th' Merry Wives of Windsor, 
Measure for Measure, and All is Well that Ends Well. 
When you compleate the foregoing, take Much Ado about 
Nothing, Peele's Tale of Troy, Hiren th' Faire Greeke, 
and The Winter's Tale. 

By this time you must have found all these rules, as 
everie play contains many. These direct your feet in a 
winding waie, wearysome to you oft-times and not always 
promising much profite, and yet manie stories are wrapt 
in this Cyphe'. Many of these were placed heere only 
for a guide or aide, in my Cipher-work. This must have 
beene soe apparent many times that my mention of it 
giveth you undue labour, but you had not greater dificultie 
with this very tortive Cypher, it must be scene, then I 
have had in writing them all and co'cealing one within 
others so neatly that no prying eie hath read the stories 
thus hidden here. 

This Cypher then is of value to futvire generations. 
They who may liave an ardent desire for glory, hereby 
may find a waye to gain the honour which they thus 
fervently and fev'rously seeke. He that is imployed to 
conduct business which doth much concerne matters of 
th' State, and th' affaires that not onely are of importancy 
to princes, but to the people, shall not faile to want other, 
possibly many and varied, means of transmitting what- 
ever is of secrecy or great import in his embassage. To 
him shall my invention give joy and profit many times. 



328 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

nor can it be untimely at any age of human history — 
when my life is done, a monument more white and fair 
then the marble the farre mines o' Italy or Isles of Ionia 
have ever produc'd. 

Pause before abandoning- your work to aske: "Is my 
honor, my pride, my fortune or fame pledg'd to anie^ 
thing?" It is said to anyone having gone forth to his 
labor: "Let not him look back who hath put hand unto 
his plough;" so shall the man who may have found my 
inventions presse forward to his farthest bourne, and 
winne the reward of industrious Avorkers. 

Never may doubts and idle fears assail him. A light 
shineth upon th' path his feet must tread, guiding like 
■fiery pillar both while the night doth darken, and in th(^ 
daytime when the sunne doth shine, — in th' noontime, 
at evening and at morne. Many moneths shall this light 
guard the waye, guiding his feoto, and comforting his 
spirits. No labyrinth can bee so winding that he shal 
not be the leader through all the twisted, subtile 
turnings. 

As houndes pursew the fox, so swiftly must he followe 
the quest till the Cipher histories be found. Time ^^^ll 
justlie pay all his obligations, as he provided early in his 
venture, nor will he aba'don one who wandereth in Night 
and ^gyptia' darknesse untill he hath found tlr light. 
Your assurance may grow strong, my friend, for th" end 
is sure. The golden crowne shall one day be youi-s. 

Alas, how do men's mindes turne to the hope of a 
great name in some other waie, when no greatnesse of 
bloud hath set a seal upo' them. Some, however, are 
greater by birth. Such arc heires to kingdomes, as I 
myself am. yea, and heii-e to a scepter itself, of sucb 



NATURAL HISTORY. 229 

pow'r that Europe doth tremble in dread o' wrath and 
destruction if the shadowe falleth over the land: yet I am 
not king, nor even heire-apparent to His Ma. My mother 
gave away her owne "first-borne fruit o' her body, nor did 
she at any subsequent time honor him publickly as her 
Sonne, although she promised it oft in the earlier years 
of her raigne. I who now speake to you in this wave, as 
hath bin said elsewhere in th' Cipher, am the Prince so 
unjustlie treated. My heart burnetii in my bosom, my 
spirit swelleth like Xeptune's waters before a tempest, 
and threateneth to orepeer the lists whenere my eager 
thoughts dwell long upon a cro^^Tie and throne. 

Nor is it wholly borne of injuries. 
But there is that within my spiritt saith 
That I was form'd to govern other men, 
Wisely and boldly as befittteth kings. 
It is no vaine conceit, no idole dreame, 
But in my veines a royall currant floweth 
Whose sourse, no other than the heart of him 
Surnam'd the Conqueror, sent i' crimson rivers, 
Warm, vitall, swift, in many channels running; 
Through heart o' one the boldest of tli' bold, 
Whom men re-christen'd Cordelion — Richard, 
The Lion Heart; through artiers of that king, 
Edward the Third in name — th' first in honor; 
And in bold Henry Fifth coursing like fire; 
That bloud inflam'd my grandsire Henry Eight; 
Surged in the veines of Queen Elizabeth, 
My royall mother; now, to me come downe, 
Entaileth to me, by a law^ divine, 
This sole inheritance. Yea, it is mine. 



230 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

A gift irrevocable from her whose hand 

Th' imperiall scepter held. ISTot Jove himselfe 

With awfull bending browe, — the nod that shaketh 

The firm foundation of the solid globe 

With fev'rous eartheqnakes, maketh Heaven tremble 

In terrour and affright, and hurleth backe 

To secret ocean cave a frighten'd horde 

Of cowering waves, — had pow'r to give to gods, 

Or unto humankind, decree more fix'd. 

Such are these Cypher poemes I put within workes of 
this kind. The theam of the exteriour works — play, 
poem, or work of science — often no waye coneerneth that 
contain'd within, yet in the Cypher history I have put 
some of my "svealth of poesy, both of poesie which doth 
intend nought but th' giving of pleasure, and that whose 
designe is to instruct. Many are plays, others are trans- 
lated epics of Virgin and Homer. I repeate this oft since 
I know not what pages have been work'd out, not sup- 
posing that instinct in a decypherer can be so strong, that 
he hath begun his ^vork where I commenced my instruc- 
tions; yea, in workes of poetry, history, science, I. have 
■^catter'd with free hand so manie repetitions of my direc- 
tions that it would surprise me beyond measure, if my 
letter remaine still a sealed booke whose writing none 
may read. 

When sufficient have beene found in any place to make 
a full tale of keyes, a portion o' this history may be 
written, and, please you, the writing o' th' secrets is 
chief est in my conceit, for 'twere a more note- worthy 
thing, I hold, to make true and correct records of the 
history of England and of Queene Elizabeth, her life, 



NATURAL HISTORY. I&31 

than to relate the most thrilling tale man's minde can 
produce. It doth redounde most to our credit of all our 
worthy labon', and shall also bring- just reward unto the 
decipherer, but no part is better worth noting then the 
portio' that doth containe the story which Time onely 
will reveale, inasmuch as it is nowhere found or is nowhere 
left to my countrymen but in Cypher. 

The reason is not farre t' seeke; 'tis this: rhe many 
spies employ'd by our mother, the constant watchfull eies 
she had upon us, marking our going out and our coming 
in, our rising up and all our movements from the rising 
of the sunne, to his rising upon the following morning; 
not a moment when we could openly write and publish a 
true, accurate history of our times, since nought which 
Her Ma. disapprov'd could ever finde a printer. 

This then is th' onely cause of my secrecy, but it is 
much too great an attempt now to reveale all this openly: 
instead, I will spend my whole time in encreast modells, 
and well form'd examples of the art o' transmitting. A 
true accompt of my mother's favorite treasure is strictly 
given in my history — her love of golden praises, of silverie 
tongued words of flattering speech, dialogues of compli- 
ment and princely sayings, or ceremonies. It formed her 
chief wealth, while, unlike the mother of the Gracchi, 
she did not reckon sonnes as jeweles, nor did she openly 
acknowledge either my brother or myself — borne princes 
— heires to th' kingdome. 

It burneth as an injury no lapse of time can cure, a 
ceaselesse corosive which doth eate th' heart. Th' sole 
relief e doth come by making out a complete history of my 
wrong that doth so embitter my dayes. Men can eat 
sleepe, drinke, worke when the heart is bowed down in 



232 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

pain, yet the joys are gone from their whole lives, and 
doe not return. Chief of sorrows is a sense of willful 
wrong on th' part of such men or women as have greatest 
obligation by relation, and more especially those of neerest 
and most tender relationship — that of parents to a childe. 
This will never groAV inferior, nor ev'n merely equall to 
the naturall ills in life. It doth rather greatly magnify 
and increase. Why and wherefore I shall not aske, nor 
marvell at ought of similar nature. The Creator planted 
this within the bosom o' our kind. Who hath so great 
wisedome or soe just judgment of our life, of right or 
wrong, as our Maker? Who can pronounce His lawes at 
fault? A foole or blind, perchance, not he that sees, nor 
the man o' thought. 

Your w^ork is soe thoroughly plan'd, its exerj part 
neatly joined togather before it was again separated, it 
awaits th' master hand. I may teach you the manner and 
perhaps shew manie examples in divers works for your 
use, as appeare often in more than three methodes of 
transmitting, yet the work is entirelie left to you. 

It dependeth upon others oft-times to reape th' hai'- 
vest one hand hath sowen, and my labour may be so com- 
pared: it is also verie like th' sounds musicians make in 
tuning their instruements, of no delight or pleasantnessc 
to heare, but for this cause, afterward there is sweeter and 
more pleasing musicke. But we shall have occasion to 
shew the wonderfully beautifull harmony that hath at one 
time been brought forth, if you but obey us. 

There is a play in some of my prose works, in Cypher, 
of great worth, entitl'd The White Rose o' Britaine. It 
hath as principall actors, names verie familiar. Historic 
related events, and out of many papers which th' times 



NATURAL HISTORY. 238 

render of importance, I have made a play. The parts con- 
cerning mj maternall great-gTandsire, who as yon no 
donbt have learned before this was King Henry Seventh, 
and also mnch o' that that doth chiefly concern his thorne, 
that Perkin (or as it is often written elsewhere, Peterkin) 
Warbeck, and the gentle wife, whom the king so gallantly 
nam'd White Rose o' Britaine, will be found in the his- 
toric of his raigne. The remaining portions are put in 
my Essays, in my Advancement of Learning, the Anatomy 
of Melancholy and the prose of svich plays as naturallie 
treat of affaires of State. 

It shall give many a portion of my history, for my 
owne case is of the same nature as Perkin's, but my claime 
was just, his built on thin aire. Wrongs have been done 
me which none have known but persons who kept th' 
secret of my early life. In this play you heare the chaf 'd 
lion's sullen roare, and though the scenes have their proper 
place in the history of Henry the Seventh's time, manie of 
them will be found to relate other things of an after time. 
If you keepe my life and its rude tumults in minde, this 
play that seemeth to relate such events in the reigne [of] 
this most mighty king, shall portray many a scene in that 
of Elizabeth, my owne royall parent. It is the vaine crie 
the tortured one doth utter ere the spirit doth quit the 
earthly frame. 

You can proceed at once to collect much matter to- 
gather in masse to be assorted, arranged, put aside for your 
future use, as you have frequentlie received directions in 
a great many works and in more places then one, and so 
mark'd and dispos'd as to lie as readie to th' hand, as 
brickes unto the hand of th' builder. 



234 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACO^f. 

Many a yeare I did work upon this method to perfect 
it for use, and I submit it to you not so much as a work 
which shall be to the advantage of my self e, that in truth, 
right, and the simplest justice should have the soveraignty 
of th' kingdome, as one brought forth for the aggrandize- 
ment of the patient decypherer. It is for this that I looke 
out to that long future, not of years but of ages, knowing 
that my labours are for benefit of a land very far off, and, 
after great length of time is past, Europe must also reap 
th' great harvest still ripening as doth the yellowe graine 
where th' sunshine doth fall. 

As for th' Cypher-play you have now to write, when you 
have brought each cipher block (I use a native mode of 
speech) you comence by polishing and rounding these to 
resemble such as the plays that you already have written 
contain. Many parts are rough, it remains for your hand 
to polish some, reconstruct others, nor leave unturned the 
least portion of a line which I have plac'd in the Historic 
of King Henry the Seventh, and manie like prose workes, 
inasmuch as my time Avould not suffice to give this further 
attention. 

But your experience hath well furnished the minde 
with all our directions and rules for any worke of this 
kinde, therefore our last play shall surelie hold a place 
of equal ranke with those that have doubtlesse come to th' 
hands of our publishers long ere this. For the decypher- 
ing of these secret workes will hardly be so closelie hid, 
or so secretly done as hath beene th' work of my silent 
preparation. 

In some places another word has beene conjoin'd, as 
confusion may arise if I give not some just signe, or other- 
wise shewe which part of my owne life is related in this 



Natural history. 2S5 

play. As in the early part which I spent across the chan- 
nell, surely in this the same kind of guiding words set 
this apart. These, the M^ords thus used, pertaine to human- 
ity, as for example, mankinde, womankinde, and all tli' 
kinds of names us'd in th' language to signify human- 
kinde. 

Seeke all the keies which are so guarded by a word that 
I have pointed out thorow the many bookes. Like fingers 
on a guide-post they shall so direct the way out of the 
labyrinth that you can trace it with the penne as on a 
map or chart. All the rules given for th' other works 
shall be used to decipher this play, and th' first thing to 
do in this, as in all, must be making ready a true table 
of my guards, guides, keies, word-signs (or such as bring 
these portiones into such relation or position, with regarde 
each to the other, as before; or those that do give a direc- 
tion to the work so named) also th' numerous and diverse 
names that designate various works. 

When this hath beene well prepared anie further delay 
is unnecessary for all else was but secundarie in my de- 
signe. If further directions bee requir'd they must come 
to light in the pursuance o' this work. This in truth is 
in part my plan, as I have found no rules can be render'd 
quite crystalline, finished and perfected, beforehand, but 
use shall pollish them like glasses of steel. This is not a 
deficiency in any of the rules or direct'ons, but hath roote 
in th' weaknesse and insufficiency that sheweth ever in a 
man's first motions by another's suggestions. Yet custome 
doth familiarize these notions — the repitition o' th' action 
helpeth also — thereafter th' hand of th' man is a perfect 
and constant instrument obeying the will of a tirelesse 
master-minde and spirit. 



236 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Thus the decyph'rer, part only of that instrument, doth 
draw a hidden secret forth, revealing marvellously strange 
liappenings as unknowne to himselfe as they have thus 
farre (necessaril}') beene to all the world outside this 
microcosme — myself e. This must bee so, yet shall his 
most importante labours in duo time have the worthy 
measure of reward that they undeniably but justlie merit. 

I must plant, I must sow, while none save hee shall 
reape my fields of ripening golden corn that must feed the 
hungrie in future ages. Th' gods' sweet nectar or ambro- 
sia is not so immortall as my precious harvest shall be. 
It is to you I doe speak, and unto you do I looke for aide. 
I, alone, am like a child in its infancie, weake and help- 
lesse; you must afford strength for my frame. Yours is 
the hand that must lead me whither my steps would go — 
the guide, lamp, staffe indeed my sole hope and stale — the 
judge who is to give sentence upon the least or upon the 
greatest of the crimes any of the persons of whom I speak 
were guilty — the one from whom I shall expect just sen- 
tence when my owne life doth stand before you in judge- 
ment. 

When my very soule doth lie, as the soules of men 
shall, before our Father's judgement seate, expos'd to the 
eies of men and angels, I shall receyve all men's praise in- 
steed of a whole nation's or manie nations' contumely. 
Then my love shall bee known, which would sacrifice my 
ease that humanity might share in all these labours, reap- 
ing rich benefits from my studies. So must my name bee 
revered in manie a land among th' sons of men; and in 
old countries where learning doth flourish, shall new 
knowledge grow from these experiments or inquiries when 
th' naturall lawes have been more carefully sought. 



NATURAL HISTORY. 337 

It must be well seene in many person's experience, that 
while Fortune hath somewhat of a woman's nature, hast'n- 
ing her steps whenere pursued, studies and learning may 
be said to woo their lovers. Knowledge will reward all 
who seeke th' real spirit or beautifull outward forme. N"o 
ardente follower was ere unsatisfied, if he faltered not nor 
wearied in a race up the lofty steeps of Olympus, and I 
now seeke th' dizzie top more eagerlie then I did in those 
e'rly daies when my bloud ran warme and life itselfe was 
as the first rayes of faire sunshine: for the crowne then 
seemed to hang ore my head. My right was made plaine 
to me, and besides a great earnestnesse, a persisting upon 
my owne side, there should bee, and I doubt there was, 
some secret bending or stooping o' my mother's spirit, yet 
my fate was as a card — a die cast by hands of those bold 
men, not as a prince's shining destiny. 

I faine would attest how painfull this acting parts soon 
(naturally) did seenie unto my father, for, said hee, '^ 
mortall man may speak falselie upon occasion but he was 
a strange man who dared live a falsehood;" nevertheless 
hee did live, the unacknowledg'd husband of Queene 
Elizabeth, my mother. But hee was an unwise and most 
artles actour, and oft did give sad trouble to some of our 
managers or controllers, those in the haughtie Burleigh's 
emploie, or th' hand and glove associates who served as his 
factors, but this was not of any momente. 

The times were not a bad schoolemaster. When I 
resumed my former study of th' state of th' nations, and 
patiently work'd out th' modell of government, my most 
potent reason may be justlie gather'd; for I then did trust 
to his hopefull spirit as a sonne naturallie should. In my 
Cipher as you must soon see, I have written out the afore- 
said modell, which I still thinke is worthy of attention. 



238 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Make search for keies in another work entitled, New 
Atlantis, but looke on further for directions. Here you 
may finde a rule by which Cipher stories, of value and 
interest not onely in the time of which this secret work 
doth treate, but also when a future time is come, are put 
within some of my other workes. These are written as 
intending their printing, but no design of publication ere 
did enter the plan that I formed of this opportune methode 
of hiding my worke until such time as one shall write 
my history. 

This historic in the fonn of plays, coucerneth a great 
and most mightie sovereign, Queene Elizabeth, with mine 
owne eventfull life, the sorry course of the Earle that 
was mine apparent friend, when in fact he is my brother 
and my enemy, the reall pollicy that (as Queene of a 
mighty people, and ruler above every other which then 
did reigne i' th' bounds o' Europe, Asia, or Amerie) Eliza- 
beth pursued in relation to this matter, which is now mis- 
understood, with other diverse subjects. 

This rule is as follows: Keyes are placed usually in 
the same portion ^vith joining words, that shewe which 
parts had stood in juxtaposition. The parts are to stand 
as in that former or originall worke. When these are all 
joined together, you have those plaies, or prose historic, 
poems, (the Illiad o' Homer is concealed within the Cipher 
with Virgil his yEneid) and so forth. I give in this man- 
ner many of the principall themes and plans, but in the 
Cipher you have the directions for writing the same. 

I must have a trustworthie decipherer, a true writer, 
and readie interpreter, or the best of my work will never 
have neede of a printer. This is my onely manner of 
shewing out my true name, but it is well that my many 



NATURAL HISTORY. 239 

valued books have given the name which I bear worthiest 
renoune or I might loose my immortall honors — the fame 
that I would winne. 

When this worke is finished, you must returne t' the 
place upon page two-hundred fifty-one, and finde th' secret 
story begun in Ce'tury Ten. The keyes are Paris, glove, 
favour, embassador, French, lady, lord, childhood, king, 
queene, child, love and wounds. 

The storie of my secret mission is thus begunne, for as 
hath beene said, I was intrusted at that very time with 
businesse requiring great secrecy and expediency. This 
was soe well conducted as to winne the Queene's frank ap- 
provall, and I had a livelie hope by meanes of this enter- 
ing wedge to be followed by the request nearest unto my 
soule [I] should so bende Her Majestie's minde to my 
wish. Sir Amyias Paulet undertooke to negotiate both 
treaties at once, and came thereby very near to a breach 
with the Queene, as well as disgrace at Henrie's Court. 
Both calamities, however, were averted by such admirable 
adroitnesse that I could but yield due respect to the finesse, 
while discomforted by th' death of my hope. 

^rom that day 1 lived a doub'full life, swinging like a 
pendent branch to and fro, or tempest toss'd by manie a 
troublous desire. At length I turned my attention from 
love, and used all my time and wit to make such advance- 
ment in learning or atchieve such great profici(ci)ency in 
studies that my name as a lover of Sciences should bee best 
known and most honour'd, lesse for m' owne agrandizement 
than as an advantaging of mankind, but with some naturall 
desires to approove my worthinesse in th' sight o' my booke- 
loving and aspiring mother, beleeving that by thus doing 
I should advance my claime and obtayne my rights, not 



240 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

aware of Cecill, his misapplied zeale in bringing this to 
Her Majestie's notice, to convinc' her minde that I had 
noe other thought save a designe to winne sovraigntie in 
her life-time. 

I neede not assert how farre this was from my heart at 
any time, especiallie in my youth, but th' Queene's jeal- 
ousie so blinded her reason that she, folowing th' sugges- 
tion of malice, shewed little pride in my attempts, discov- 
ering in truth more envie then naturall pride, and more 
hate than affection. 

A little while therafter her troubles concerning Mary 
of Scots began, and nothing else had such exceeding in- 
teresse in her eyes as th' least trifle of airey nothingnesse 
which came to us regarding her cousin, A wish to goe 
thither took possession of her, and she was almost per- 
swaded, I am well assur'd, to goe to Scotland with a gentle- 
man from that Court in the disguise of a youth, as page to 
the gaye Courtier, whilst her chamber should, in her ab- 
sence, be closed as though suf'ring so much payne as that 
it compelled her to deny audience to everie person save 
Lady Strafford and th' physitian. 

But this foolish plann died ere it was brought to ful- 
nesse of time, thereby making it apparent that at second 
thought her wisedome doth exceede idole curiositie. 

For yeares th' wish lay quiescent. Soone, in truth, the 
Queene came hither requesting a safe conduct into France. 
This being harshly refus'd, th' ministers thinking it more 
prudent at that time to all owe her such sure shelter in our 
owne countrey that she should be safe from her enemies, 
whilst in England, this poor Queene was moov'd from one 
castle to another, but was not as yet, brought before Eliza- 
beth. 



NATURAL HISTORY. 241 

Againe a desire to looke on the face of her foe stirred 
in her, so that newe curiosity made her inquire of all who 
knew the lady concerning her beautie, hight, colour of 
hair, qualitie of her voyce, etcaetera, verie like to the fam- 
ous Egyptian Queene regarding Octavia, and, to gratify 
her consumi'g desire it was soone arranged by my ill-advis'd 
father to give Her Majestic a sight of this Queene whilst 
supping in quiet by invitation at his owne house. 

Elizabeth, angered by hearing what pass'd betweene 
Queene Mary and my father, stept forth quickly, discover- 
ing herselfe and administ'red a reproofe my father under- 
stood farre better then Queene Mary could. 'Tis a subject 
of wonder that it did not signe both death warrants, for 
th' trouble that was spoken of in this matter was constantly 
increasing evidence that a Cypher us'd in Mary's forraine 
correspondence had beene the medium by which a com- 
plai'te had beene made of her treatment, and pleas widelie 
disseminated for assistance. 

The Queene set mee at discyph'ring this, nor can 1 
deny, indeed, that it grew so clear that it would glimmer 
through the dullest of eies that the imprisoned Queene did 
not intende anything short of her owne proper enthroniza- 
tion. She did affect greatly both France and Spaine, 
partly because of her religion, and partly, in respect of 
France, because of her brief, but happy union formerly 
with Francis Second, a brother of Heniy, th' soveraigne 
then on th' throne. And whilst many of the epistles were 
difficult, and to me impossible, — not having th' keie, — to 
decypher, my labor had better fruits then I on my owne 
part wish'd, for I had a secret sympathy for this poor wan- 
derer although by no menes interesting or engaging my- 
selfe on anie dangerous chance. 



242 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 

As I have said elsewhere in th' principall Cypher, Her 
Majesty had suspected me of open assistance Avhen in th' 
snnnie land of France. In truth that disagreeable insinu- 
ation had much to doe with her decision respecti'g my 
owne marriage, not a wante of fitnesse in the parties. How- 
ever, no act or written word could bee produced in proof, 
or cited to shew that I had ever had such sympathy, — that 
it was shewn eithe' openly or privately to herself e; the 
jealous suspicions died away and my assistance as adviser, 
and I may say valuable counselour, was earnestlie desired. 

'Tis a grievous fault, I, [ay] a dreadfull crime, to con- 
spire as Marie of Scots did against a great Queene. Th' 
"^'cry power and grandeur awakeneth a reverence or a ven- 
eration in th' heart, and give a sovereigne much in coraon 
with our Supreme Ruler, — it must not be soe inquir'd of. 

Elizabeth, thereunto prompted by her prudent advis- 
ers, at length adopted a policie soe mild in its nature that 
lier foe could no' make just complaint, and th' matter then 
rested quiet a short time. 

Her Majestic soften'd so much towards my unthinking- 
fa ther, that instead o' driving him away implacably, she 
gave him command at once of her army in foreigne warres, 
and disspatcht him as Master o' th' Horse of Her Majes- 
tie's army in th' ^STetherlands. 

A short respite followed, and had Queene Mary bin 
warn'd by th' experiences of her very great danger, calam- 
ity might doubtlesslie have beene finally avoyded; for th' 
divided minde of Her Majestic, swaying now here, now 
there, at no time long clung to revengeful intents. In 
such incertainty was she, that a report of words that might 
be conster'd as spoken with t'reat or malice, another, folow- 



NATURAL HISTORY. 243 

ing it, should be set downe because of its kindnesse and 
forbearrance. 

Such, however, was by no meanes Lord Burleigh's man- 
ner. In truth, soe determin'd was hee not onelie that 
sentence o' death should surely bee pronounc'd against her 
when she was brought to triall, — if triall that may bee 
entitul'd, when th' haplesse prisoner must needs chose 
from the counsell of her foe to obtaine any defender in 
th' proceedings, — but, likewise, that th' harsh se'teuce 
should not lingi* i' execution. 

Soone there was a secret interview betweene Lord Bur- 
leigh [and] Earle of Leicester, to which was summoned 
the Queene's Secretary who was so threaten'd by his lord- 
ship — on paine of death, etcaetera, th' poor fool — that hee 
sign'd for the Queene, and affixed th' great seale to the 
dreadful death-warrant. 

The life of the Secretarie was forfeit to the deede when 
Her Majesty became aware that so daring a crime had 
beene committed, but who shall s-aj that the blow fell on 
the guilty head; for, truth to say, Davison was onely a 
poor feeble instrumment in their handds, and life seem'd 
to hang in th' ballance, therefore blame doth fall on those 
men, great and noble though they be, who led him to his 
death. 

This sheweth any who have thought Elizabeth too 
severe to her cousin that, though she had prudence suffi- 
ciente to keepe her arch-enemie in seclusion, by no meanes 
was th' heart in that faire bosom so flintie as to send th' 
unfortunate woman to her death before her time. 

The Duke of Norfolk, it is quite true, lost his life 
through too much zeale to Mary's cause, united, it is said. 



'i44 Bl-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACOISt. 

or springing from, a rash desire to wed the lady, notwitii- 
standing th' charges that were preferr'd against her. How- 
ever, th' removall of one diike was but a smaj mater com- 
par'd with that of a Queene. ^ man's head stood some- 
what tickle on th' shoulders then, nor did hee thinke his 
life hard or cruell were such exit provided him. 

But to return to the narration, — which is a ])ainfull 
ilieame to me now as in that sad time, and furnish'd me 
th' subject matter of one o' my Cypher tragedys that may 
be found and written by aide of this argument, — this war- 
rant of death reach'd Fotlieringay much sooner then it was 
expected by anie there attendant upon the wro'gly accused 
Queene for whatever [her] fault, it is knowe that all plots 
in her favour against the life of the Queene, my mother, 
had their origine outside of England, but being the center 
thereof whether cognisant of them or not she would, by 
th' lawe, be attaint of treason. 

Furthermore, being(g) Catholick, she held th' divorce 
of Henry Eight from Queene Katherine unlawfull, in 
verie truth, and unjust; his marriage with Anne Eolyne, 
therefore, could but bee an unsanctified union and their 
children bastards. Granting th' premise, Mary of Scots 
should have succeeded Mary of England. 

xlgaine I have somewhat digress'd, but the tlieame is soe 
heavy I cannot follow it without taking short respite at 
intervalls. At the appointed time on that sadd dale, Mary 
enter'd the great hall of her prison-castle, which for this 
occasion we ree-draped in blacke, wearing a Ion' mourning 
cloake that cover'd her from head to foote; with her were 
her attendants. The executioner, likewise in mourning, 
stood in silence by the blocke, and dispos'd in paires about 



NATURAL HISTORY. 245 

the room, were the English Lords, Kent, Shrewsbury, Mon- 
tague and Derby idlie conversing. 

Tlie Queene looked pale from want o' rest but was 
cahiie and compos'd. She ask'd for the services of her 
owne priest; it was refus'd with needlesse sternnesse. She 
spake little more, pray'd in cleare tones for some minutes, 
commended to God her suffering soule, to Phillip of Spaine 
th' quarrell with England and her clayme to the throne. 
Then she stept forward letting the cloake slide to the floor 
and stoode up before them in a robe of brave bloud-red, 
and in that sweete, winsome waye most naturall to a 
woman and to her in highest degree, she bade her waiting 
women farewell, thanked Lord Montague who had spoken 
for her when th' lords sat in councell and bade him adieu. 
Afterward there came a moment of hesitation, — onely a 
minute, possibly for silente invocation, — then she spake 
•graciously to each one in her presence and was ledd to 
the blocke. 

So ended Marie of Scots, but her sad story is set downe 
herein, and in my heart her beautie still liveth as fresh as 
if she were yet amongst the living. 

As hath beene said, this is hidden in th' works in th' 
form of a tragedie of such interesse that I urge upon my 
discyp'rer th' oft repeated wish for a carefull rend'ring of 
my work. To such an one our worke is left nor can I 
beleeve it lost. In hope, such as doth inspire the hearts 
of all those who commit their labours to th' future, I leave 
you my name and labours, 

PRA. SAINT ALBAN. 



246 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON. 



His lordship's part endeth here and I add but a fewe 
Hnes to speake of th' errata. Some words have [been] left 
out, now and then one repeated — th' syllables and letters 
are also thus — do sometimes appear, sometimes have 
stray'd from sight ; but I trust the greater number of these 
mistakes to your discretion. Yet one statement should be 
changed for a manuscript line omitted hurteth the sense. 
On page two-hundredth and sixty-five, speaking of Her 
Majesty, reade : "Shortly after the return of her rivall to 
her native land, desire to go thither, etcetera." This no 
(do) doubt is the chiefe thing omitted, but I thinke 
proper under the existing circumstances, not wishin' (that) 
his lordship's much priz'd epistle to make a beggarly entry, 
to sett you right in order that we may correct othe^r 
errours. 

Respectfully your faithfull fellowe worker, 

WILLIAM RAWLEY. 



APPENDIX. 

IRREGULAR PAGING OF ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 

Advancement of Learning. Book I. — Pages 16, 18, 34 occur twice; 
17, 19, 24 are missing. 
Book II.— Pages 6, 33, 79, 93, 94, 103 occur twice; 70, 99 occur 
three times; 69, 74 occur four times; 73, 105 misplaced; 
9 missing. 

Spenser's Faerie Queene. Pages 10, 23 occur twice; 8, 33 missing. 

Shakespeare Plays — 

Merry Wives of Windsor. Pages 51, 58 occur twice ; 50, 59 
missing. 

Comedy of Errors. Page 88 occurs twice; 86 missing. 
Midsummer Night's Dream. Pages 151, 163 occur twice; 153, 
161 missing. 

Merchant of Venice. Pages read 163, 162, 163, 166. 
As You Like It. Page 187 occurs twice; 189 missing. 
Taming of the Shrew. Page 212 occurs twice; 214 missing. 
All Is Well. Pages 251, 252 occur twice; 249, 250 missing. 
Twelfth Night. Page 273 occurs twice; 265 missing. 
Henry IV. Part I.— Pages read 46, 49. 

Henry IV. Part II. — Pages 91, 92 occur twice; 89, 90 missing. 
Henry VI. Part III.— Pages 167, 168 occur twice ; 165. 166 
missing. 

Henry VIII. Page 218 occurs twice; 216 missing. 
Troilus and Cressida. Only two pages numbered— 79, 80. 
Romeo and Juliet. Last two pages read 76, 79; missing 77, 78. 

In deciphering after 76 of R. and J. use 78 and 79 of T. 

and C. , then 79 of R. and J. 

Timon of Athens. Pages 81, 82 occur twice. 

Hamlet. Next after page 156 is 275. Page 259 occurs twice; 
279 missing. 

King Lear. Page 308 reads 38. 

Cymbeline. Page 389 occurs twice; 379 missing. Page 399 
reads 993. 



APPENDIX. 

Anatomy of Melancholy (1628)— 

Democritus to Reader. Pages 39, 40 occur twice. 

Anatomy. Pages 62, 78, 79, 86, 88, 89, 91, 114, 115, 251, 259, 

583, 584 occur twice. Page 359 stands in place of 360; 

Pages 66, 96, 98, 99, 101, 214, 215, 351, 359 missing. 

De Augmentis. Pages 67, 104, 373, 276, 384, 357, 361, 387, 396 occur 
twice; 187, 204, 248, 373, 376, 369, 383, 386, 537 missing. 

Natural History. Page 39 occurs twice; 35 missing. 



In deciphering, the pages of the same number must be joined for 
connected narrative. If a page occurs numbered ahead of its order, 
omit until its proper number is reached, and decipher in advance of its 
duplicate. If a page occurs numbered later than its regular order, it 
must be brought forward and follow its duplicates iu the order they 
occur in the books. 

Some of the irregularities are printer's errors, but most of them 
are to bring pages together that were misplaced to further hide the 
Cipher. 



SPENSER. 



" Spenser's ' Shepheardes Calender ' was in its day a book of 
great interest, not only because it made the world acquainted 
with ' the new poet,' but also because it contained allusions to 
personages of distinction well known, and to circumstances 
familiar to everybody. From 1579-97, in a space of eighteen 
years, it passed through five different editions. 

In our days the little book is still interesting, but for other 
reasons. Firstly, as the earliest work of importance by the 
writer of ' The Faerie Queen.' Secondly, because, as Dean 
Church in his * Life of Spenser ' appropriately observes, it 
marks a ' turning-point ' in the history of English literature ; 
twenty years had passed since the publication of Tottel's Mis- 
cellany, and the appearance of the ' Shepheardes Calender ' 
gave a new impulse to English Poetry. Thirdly, from the 
mysterious circumstances connected with its publication." 

The following are some of the " mysterious circumstances" : 
On December 5th, 1579, " The Shepheardes Calender " was 
entered at Stationers' Hall, under the name of Hugh Singleton, 
according to the following transcript : 

Hughe Singleton ; Lycenced unto him the Shepperdes Calender con- 
teyninge xij eclogues proportionable to the xij monethes — vjd. 

Neither in the entry nor on title page is the author's name 
mentioned, but on its verso some dedicatory verses are signed 
" Immerito." 

This edition is dedicated, or " Entitled to the Noble and 
Vertuous Gentlemen, most worthy of all titles, both of learning 
and chevalrie, M. Philip Sidney." " Printed by Hugh Singleton, 
dwelling in Creede Lane neere unto Ludgate at the signe of the 
gylden Tunne, and are there to be solde." 

Four copies of this edition are known to exist : — 

1. No. 11,532 of the Grenville collection of the British 

Museum. 

2. In the Bodleian Library, Oxford. 

3. No. 293 Capell, T. 9, 'in Library of Trinity College, 

Cambridge. 

4. No. 427 of the Huth Library. 

The next four editions are published by John Harrison the 
younger, to whom Hugh Singleton assigned the book as follows : 

29 October [1581] 
John harrison : Assigned over from hugh Singleton to have the shep- 
pardes callender, which was hughe Singleton's copie. — vjd. 



The second edition was " Imprinted at London by Thomas 
East for John Harrison the younger, dwelling Pater noster Roe, 
at the signe of the Anker, and are there to bee solde. 1581." 
This second edition is olso dedicated to Philip Sidney. It is 
rare, but found in the Grenville Collection, in the Bodleian, 
Trinity College, and Huth Libraries. 

The third edition was " Imprinted at London by John 
Wolfe for John Harrison the yonger, dwelling in Pater noster 
Roe, at the signe of the Anker. 1586." 

The fourth edition was " Printed by John Windet for John 
Harrison the yonger, dwelling Pater noster Roe, etc. 1591." 

The fifth edition was *' Printed by Thomas Creede for John 
Harrison the yonger, dwelling Pater noster Roe, at the signe of 
the Anchor, etc. 1597." 

In 1611, together with some other poems, the Shepheardes 
Calender appeared for the first time with the poet's name 
attached to it ; this volume has the title : The Faerie Queen : 
The Shepheards Calendar ; Together with the other works of 
England's Arch-Poet, Edm. Spenser. ^ Collected into one 
Volume and carefully corrected. Printed by H. L. for Mathew 
Lownes. Anno Dom. 1611, fol. This volume is dedicated to 
Queen Elizabeth thus : To the Most High, Mightie, and Mag- 
nificent Emperesse, Renouned for Pietie, Vertue, and all Gracious 
Government : Elizabeth, By the Grace of God, Queene of Eng- 
land, France, and Ireland, and of Virginia : Defender of the 
Faith, &c. Her most humble Servaunt, Edmund Spenser, doth 
in all humilitie dedicate, present, and consecrate these his labours, 
to live with the eternitie of her Fame. 

Spenser returned to England (1598) a ruined, heart-broken 
man, and died in the January following, twelve years before the 
book loas attributed to his authorship, and the above dedication to 
Queen Elizabeth. 

By lohat authority is this book claimed for Spenser. 

The following lines are from the dedicatory verses of the 
first edition. 

Goe little booke: thy self e present, 

As child whose parent is unkent: 

* * * * * 

But if that any aske thy name, 
Say thou wert base begot with blame: 
For thy thereof thou takest shame. 
And vjhen thou art past jeopardee. 
Come tell me, what was sayd of mee: 
And I will send more after thee. 

Immerito. 



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